


Dawn of Peace

by Cheezey



Series: Third Earth, New Thundera, and Beyond [4]
Category: Thundercats
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheezey/pseuds/Cheezey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old grudges between Thundercat, Lunatac, and Mutant have been laid to rest, but life still goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written for NaNoWriMo 2008 as a bridge story between "Revival" and "Path Into the Darkness", both of which had originally been posted a number of years prior.

The dawn was bright across the mountains of New Thundera. Tygra watched it with a sense of peace and smiled, introspective as he took in the lovely hues of the sky turning purple, then pink, and then golden-orange as a new day began on their world. Sunrises were always beautiful, the tiger mused, but this one was more than just another day for the Thundercats and the people of New Thundera. It was the morning after the Battle of the Swords, a terrible confrontation between the Thundercats, Mutants, and Lunatacs engineered by Mumm-Ra that had threatened to destroy all three worlds in the name of revenge and ambition. Then, at the last minute, they had been able to turn it around, not just into victory against Mumm-Ra, but into lasting peace and unity amongst their peoples.

_I never would've imagined such a thing possible_, Tygra thought as the light danced against the clouds. _The Mutants and Lunatacs no longer our enemies, but our allies._ It was incredible, but he had been there himself and felt the same magic within him that everyone else—Thundercat, Mutant, and Lunatac alike—had felt when the Incantation of Peace was complete. "All that time we worried about the MoonSaber after finding Snoelle, and in the end it turned out to be a blessing." His thoughts turned to the snow leopard that had joined them, and how relieved she must now be to not only be freed from her icy prison and amongst her people—Thundercats and Thunderians, at any rate, even if not the ones she once knew or her regrettably lost kin—but also to have the burden of guilt for not completing the mission she had been trapped on lifted from her shoulders once and for all. _Panthro will be happy to see her so happy_, the tiger then thought, and smiled again, that time for his old friend. A side of the panther that none of them had seen in a long time had come out since Snoelle's return, and it made him genuinely glad to see his friend find such happiness. Tygra himself never had much luck in love. Although introverted as he was he admittedly did not try often, but all in all, relationships deeper than friendship had been disastrous to him. That did not keep him from being happy for said friends when they found it, though, and Tygra had long since made peace with the fact that he would likely live out his years single. Even if he died tomorrow, he would go feeling that he had lived a full and rich life.

"Though with things looking so bright, I certainly don't want _that_ to happen anytime soon," he said aloud, despite being alone in the room where he watched the sun rise. The tiger then stretched, and a caught a glint of light out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw the Book of Omens on a table nearby. It had been getting a lot of read time as of late; with Snoelle's return and questions about the MoonSaber, the prophecy of the swords, and all of the concerns that had arisen recently it was a given that the Book of Omens was the first resource the Thundercats consulted. "Guess I ought to return this to the sword chamber before Snarf gives us a piece of his mind for not keeping the Lair neat." He went over and picked the book up, and noticed that it seemed a tad heavier in his hands than he remembered. "That's odd…"

Looking at it more closely, Tygra could have sworn that it also looked thicker than it had before too. "Very odd," he amended his statement. He knew that the Book of Omens was an ancient artifact created by Thundercat scholars generations ago to record and keep their history and secrets, and that it had powers that they did not fully understand. Tygra also knew that it held a pathway to another realm which held those secrets that could be unlocked by using the Sword of Omens to gain access to it and subsequently presenting the Key of Thundera to the guardian in that realm. He never thought, however, that any kind of sentience or life existed in the pages of the mystic book other than that. _Does it add its own pages and write its own passages?_ The logical tiger found such a thing hard to believe, but he had seen far too many things based in magic in his day that science did not quite explain to dismiss it outright. He unfastened the clasp and turned the pages. _So if it does, what did it say?_

He found the answer to his question fairly quickly as he came across a set of pages at the end of the section pertaining to the prophecy and legend of the swords. "Great Jaga," he whispered in amazement. "It wrote about us and what happened yesterday!" His eyes widened in wonder as he began to read.

_Dawn of Peace—The Battle of the Swords: The ancient legends warning of apocalyptic calamity should the mighty Sword of Omens, Sword of Plundarr, and MoonSaber meet in battle whilst in the hands of the Lord of the Thundercats, Mutant Warrior King, and Ruler of the Moons of Plundarr were put into motion by the machinations of the earthbound disciples of the Ancient Spirits of Evil, Mumm-Ra the Ever-Living of Third Earth and his bride Torlei of the Plundarrian Moon Mirindet, also ever-living. These wicked beings, with the intent of destroying and enslaving the worlds of New Thundera, Plundarr, and all five of its Moons tricked Lord Lion-O of the Thundercats into arming himself with the Sword of Omens against Mutant Warrior King Ratar-O and Prince Silvian of the United Kingdom of the Moons of Plundarr. When the Lunar Plundarrian Prince fell in battle, his sister, ruling Queen Selene of the Plundarrian Moons, took his place. The ever-livings attempted to invoke the Incantation of Destruction and a terrible battle raged amongst the three rulers and Thundercats, Mutants, and Lunatacs present. All seemed to be lost until wise Thundercat Tygra,—_

Tygra smiled. _The Book of Omens calls me "wise"? I'm flattered to be thought of in the same terms as Jaga._ Glowing with pride, he continued to read.

_—Thundercat Snoelle, Lunatac Governor General Frostor, and Lunatac Chilla saw through the scheme of the ever-living dark mages and collaborated to find a way to reverse the terrible fate that awaited them. Their cleverness exposed the truth to Lord Lion-O, King Ratar-O, and Queen Selene and they in turn acted to save their worlds by invoking the Incantation of Peace, putting their personal disputes aside for the well-being of all their people. It was a heroic day, indeed, and one that will be remembered for all time as the pivotal end of the ancient struggle of Thunderian against Mutant against Lunatac._

"Glad to know that we were right about what the ancient struggle was," Tygra remarked, and closed the book. With it still in his hands, he turned once again toward the window, now smiling as brightly as the sunrise. "Dawn of Peace," he repeated. "Let's hope that our future stays as bright as the Book of Omens would have us believe."

* * *

The expressions on the faces of the Lunatacs returning from New Thundera as they disembarked from their ships were both relieved and solemn. Lushara, the senior court member left behind when the rest of the hierarchy of the MoonTower left to take care of the crisis unfolding around the recently recovered sword of their heritage, looked on with relief as one by one her longtime friends and the handful of new ones—the Lunatacs that had been on Third Earth—emerged and seemed for the most part little worse for the wear. She waited eagerly for the ship that had carried Silvian to finish emptying, but to her dismay when Governor General Frostor stepped out, he closed the door. She went from dismayed to horrified when she next saw Queen Selene emerge from her vessel and right behind her Amok and Luna, with the former carrying the covered body of the Lunatac prince.

"Oh, Silvian!" the saddened Lushara exclaimed, closing her eyes so that she would not have to see what her excellent darkling vision allowed her to that others could not—the faintest trace of remaining heat in Silvian's body compared to the inert fabric surrounding it identifying it as indeed him, with no question that he was dead. Like Frostor and Psiarik, she had been among the ragtag crew of survivors from the capitol during the Thundera explosion disasters, and she had known Silvian ever since the royal children had been found alive in the aftermath all those years ago. It was hard for her to see the boy she regarded much like a nephew—for he and Selene were too young to be imagined as siblings, but too old for her to feel overtly maternal toward—cut down so young. Tears welled in her red eyes. "He didn't make it."

"No," Selene said somberly, a glint of wetness returning to her eyes once again. "We saved the Moons, but we were too late to save him."

Frostor shook his head and let out a weary crystalline breath. "A damn shame."

"I'm so sorry." Lushara put her arms around Selene's shoulders. She glanced over at Luna and Amok, and found her gaze resting on Silvian's still form again despite her best efforts not to. "Who did it? The rat or the cat?"

"Lion-O," RedEye told the other darkling. "He dealt him the fatal blow."

Luna frowned. "And we _forgave_ him, if you can believe it."

While Lushara looked down at Selene, and then at Psiarik and Frostor with a look of shocked disbelief, Selene clarified Luna's remark before Lushara could ask. "The Incantation of Peace was the only way out, Aunt Luna. You know that. And while I'll never forget the awful sight of the Thundercat Lord swinging at him that last time—" Selene's voice choked on a sob and Psiarik finished for her.

"It was Mumm-Ra that set it all up and pit us against each other like that. It was make peace with the Thunderians and Mutants or die alongside them and let those corpses win."

"Talk about the proverbial rock and hard place," Lushara sighed, and gave Selene's shoulder a squeeze before letting her go. "So we're at peace with Thundera and Plundarr now?"

"Supposedly." Frostor shrugged. "We'll see how it pans out in practice, but Selene, Lion-O, and Ratar-O all gave their word to attempt to make it work."

Psiarik nodded along with the ice general. "And I do think they will. I don't know about the rest of you, but I can feel a difference in my outlook about them. It's subtle, but it's there."

"You in touch with your feelings," Lushara mused dryly, "now that would be a first. Then again, that prophecy did say something about the impossible with the inevitable, so I guess it fits."

"Hah, funny," the psi retorted back at her with playful sarcasm.

"And how are the rest of you?" Lushara's gaze drifted over the rest of the crew that had been largely silent—Alluro, Chilla, Vultureman, TugMug, and lastly, RedEye, where it lingered.

"Just peachy, for magically having the warm fuzzies about the Thundercats on top of everything else that, caw, went insane anyway."

TugMug laughed. "You're just bitter that even after you made peace, Ratar-O still wouldn't say he'd hire you back on Plundarr!"

"Caw! You don't know what you're talking about, you fat oaf. I wouldn't work for him again anyway! You Lunatacs might all be crazy, but you've always paid better and had more of an appreciation for my genius."

Frostor eyed the avian in a manner that was difficult to tell if what he said next was serious or in jest. "And then of course there's the matter of repercussions if you sold out any of our confidential secrets, especially considering how much I hear the hunters like to roast birds for feasts."

"Hunters," Alluro remarked with his lips curled back in a sneer as he thought about the barbaric and aloof tribe of green-haired, shape-shifting, cannibalistic Lunatacs native to the Third Moon's jungle region near the equator. "We haven't run into any of them in some time. Are there any in the capitol?"

"A few," Frostor answered. "You know how clannish they can be though; most of the ones in this area live in their own neighborhood in the city. Hunters actually did pretty well after the Thundera explosion disasters, since roughing it doesn't really faze them much and nothing particularly brutal hit Serilune, just a series of storms and minor quakes."

"Actually, I've met their representative on the city council," Lushara said. "He's not bad. Pretty civilized for a hunter."

"There's an oxymoron if I ever heard one," chortled TugMug.

"You referring to anything as 'moronic' would be one too," Chilla chimed in with a sneer at the graviton.

TugMug's face twisted into a sarcastic leer. "Hey Chilla," he wheeled around so that his backside faced her, and bent over as far as his round frame would allow. "See this? Kiss it."

"If my lips ever touch anything that nasty, I'll gargle bleach for a month."

"Considering where your lips were on the ride home, I'd put in that request to the staff now," Luna chimed in with a snide look at Alluro, who scowled back at her.

"And deny Frostor when he so clearly needs it?"

A blast of ice coming from the general's direction landed squarely between Luna and Alluro. "I think that's enough," he said, his tone stern and gravely.

Lushara shook her head as she took in the scene. "It looks like I missed quite a bit while you were all away on your adventure to New Thundera."

"You could say that," Selene said with a wan smile. "So why don't we all go in and put up our feet while we sort through it all?"

"Seems like it'll take all day and night just to fill me in on the particulars alone," mused Lushara.

RedEye joined her side and smiled at her. "I'll be glad to give you a rundown."

The female darkling reciprocated the gesture and took his hand to lead him inside. "Sounds fabulous."

* * *

The reception that awaited the Mutants on Plundarr upon their return was more formal. Chrotoman, one of Ratar-O's primary advisors and the head of one of the more prominent rat families was at the head of the assemblage that greeted them. Other prominent faces of Plundarr's court were there, three rats called Otarin, Spraguin, and Dawler, as well as high-ranking nobles of the reptilian, avian, simian, and jackal clans including Monkian's nephews Cynolus and Macacian, and Jackalman's clan elder Drestan. Other familiar faces around the high court of Plundarr that did not hold titles were also present, such as Evania, Ratar-O's favored concubine of late, a curvaceous black and white rat, and Jackalman's wife Melasia and their two pups Nadicus and Regnevacus. As Ratar-O and his group of "Third Earth Misfits" as Otarin had dubbed them in their absence disembarked from the ship, Slythe was irritated to see Iguano of the reptilians there representing his people. Iguano loathed Slythe and had been one of the most vocal in humiliating him upon his return to Plundarr, and Slythe would have liked nothing more than to bury his axe between the fat reptile's shoulder blades.

"So," Otarin greeted the Mutant Warrior King and his party with a bow, "you've returned, Mighty Ratar-O, and victorious?"

"We were quite concerned," Evania added, her dark and beady eyes intent upon him.

Spraguin took a step forward. "The rumors we heard were disconcerting; that you went on an emergency mission to New Thundera with a ragtag crew and barely a word to anyone and—" His breath caught in his throat as he saw the glint of gold in Ratar-O's hands. "Is that… is that what I think it is?" the old rat gasped.

Ratar-O grinned. "Indeed it is. The Sword of Plundarr." He held it high and proudly. "Behold, Mutants, the return of our birthright to its rightful hands. No more is it kept from us by a miserable Thunderian or an alien mummy that foolishly thought he could control its power better than the one meant to hold it."

"It's really it!" Evania squealed, and sidled up to her rotund king with unashamed flirtation. "You amaze me, mighty Ratar-O. All of Mutant-kind is in your debt."

Macacian of the simian clan snorted. "Yes, a debt that it's high time was repaid in Thunderian blood ever since the rats lost our sword."

Ratar-O sneered at the monkey Mutant. "Your jealousy is embarrassing to your whole clan. I've never heard of a simian that could even _activate_ the powers of the Sword of Plundarr, much less wield it."

Macacian's elder brother Cynolus took a step forward and smoothed down his golden-trimmed robes, ignoring his younger sibling's faux pas, and faced Monkian instead. "You do us proud, uncle, accompanying the king on such an important, hoo, mission."

Monkian beamed while Iguano came forth to give his own kinsman the opposite type of welcome. "Slythe," he sneered, "how is it that the king's essssteemed janitor managed to get appointed to such a prestigoussss mission?"

"Slythe has his uses." A nasty smirk played across Ratar-O's lips as he answered before Slythe had a chance to do so. "He keeps me well fed if nothing else."

Slythe glowered and fought the urge to strike out at them both while Iguano offered their king a flattering smile. "I have heard he's good in the kitchen. Better than sssssome women, even, I hear."

"That's it, Iguano!" Slythe roared, the tenuous hold on his temper falling away entirely. He lunged at the other reptilian, nearly toppling the avian clan leader Zarubz in the process. He squawked in protest and leapt back, his cumbersome headdress denoting his high station and office flapping in the breeze as he did so.

"Watch it, oaf!"

"Ssssso uncivilized!" Iguano whirled around, flicking his tail, and blocked Slythe's strike. "Don't cause a scene and force our victorious Mutant Warrior King call the guards."

With one arm around Evania's slender waist, Ratar-O nodded sternly. "Yes, Slythe, settle down. You can hash out your issues with your reptilian friends off the palace grounds. We've got important business to go over."

Dawler's tail flicked back and forth. "Such as? Did you eliminate the Thundercats of New Thundera?"

"That's not what I heard," Zarubz interjected.

Drestan the jackal shook his head as well. "Nor I."

While the others spoke business, Melasia made her way through the crowd to Jackalman. "I'm glad to see you back safely." Their pups went to his side and clamored for his attention, barking in excitement and Regnevacus tugging insistently on his father's tunic.

"Easy, Reggie, nyah, that's expensive!" Jackalman said, patting the exuberant boy on the head before beaming at his wife. "They let you in here?"

The female jackal smiled a sweet smile that belied a hint of craftiness. Though not as outwardly conniving as a rat and far meeker by nature—one of the reasons Jackalman was so fond of her—she was still a Mutant. Lowering her tone, she whispered, "I figured if one of Ratar-O's whores could get access to the military landing bays of the castle, it was only fair that I as your legal wife be allowed the same courtesy since you were on the ship. And if they were letting in civilians already, what harm would a couple of children be?"

"I'm lucky that Drestan likes you so much." His ears twitched. "You didn't flirt with him, nyah, did you?"

"You know I've only got eyes for you." The pretty jackal's tongue slipped out to plant a quick and dainty smooch on his cheek, while the more serious conversation continued around them.

Iguano's irate voice rose above that of the others in a sibilant hiss. "Sssso what you're saying, mighty Ratar-O, is that not only did you not eliminate the Thundercats or the meddlesome Lunatacs that interfered, but that you agreed to ally with them?"

"A serious choice had to be made, and I made it, for the benefit of Plundarr!" Ratar-O snapped back angrily. "The forward thinking of rats is why our clan rules this world and yours just has ambitions of it! I fear for what might've befallen our world if a short-sighted fool such as you had been there to make the call! Even Slythe can see that, which doesn't say much for reptilian leadership."

"Hoo!" Cynolus stood beside the now steaming reptilian leader with an equally perplexed and disgusted look on his face. "What's so forward about allowing the felines who stole the sword in your hands to survive without coating the blades in the cat lord's blood? Hoo, I dare say that Ratilla would be rolling over in his grave."

"You speak out of turn, monkey!"

"Does he?" Spraguin said. "Then explain yourself, Ratar-O. With the power of the Sword of Plundarr at your command, why did you not use it to destroy those that've stood in our way as Ratilla himself would have, had Jaga not bested him and stolen it from him? To get it back and then let them live—"

"Did you miss the part where I said that Mumm-Ra had already invoked the ancient Incantation of Destruction, old man?" a furious Ratar-O yelled back at the old rat. "Or would you have preferred that I be struck dead along with Lion-O of Thundera and Selene of the Plundarrian Moons while Mumm-Ra and his bitch Lunatac bride waltzed in and claimed Plundarr for themselves after more havoc and destruction fell on them? It wasn't some wishy-washy desire for peace, fool, but survival instinct!"

Jackalman frowned as he looked up from Melasia's seductive look that promised him a warm welcome home and the affectionate nuzzles of his pups, and realized that during his tune-out he had missed an important part of the exchange. Were the Plundarrian clan leaders really so foolish as to think that a warrior like Ratar-O would have chosen diplomacy and peace with the Thundercats and Lunatacs if there had been any other choice? His muzzle twitched. And other Mutants had the nerve to call him and the jackals stupid…

"Ratar-O's right," Monkian spoke up in defense of the rat leader. "Mumm-Ra would've destroyed us all. Teaming up with them was the only way to have it on him once the spells were cast."

Zarubz fixed his beady bird eyes on Monkian. "If the prophecies of old are to be believed, the Incantation of Destruction is one of the few things guaranteed to wipe out all of Mutant-kind along with the Thunderians and moon-dwellers. This Mumm-Ra actually thought he could wield the gods' sword to control this destruction and rule the survivors? It's said that no living being could do it. From what I know of Mumm-Ra, he's got power, but he isn't a god…"

"He's not mortal, either," Jackalman interjected, absorbed in the conversation once more. "It was a gamble for him, but he thought he could do it."

Slythe let out a hiss of disgust. "Fortunately, he was wrong."

"Because I was there to turn it around on him," Ratar-O emphasized with a glare at his doubters. "And if it means making nice with the Thundercats and Lunatacs for now, so be it. There are other things to be gained from the alliance anyway."

"Sssssuch as?" Iguano's tongue flicked out curiously.

Ratar-O sneered back at him. "I'll tell you in a press conference. For now, I only want desirable company." He eyed Evania with unmistakable lust and then gave the entourage of greeters a dismissive wave as he headed for the castle proper with his concubine on his arm. "Have your people call mine. We'll do lunch. Maybe Slythe will even have someplace you like cater it if you ask nicely. But until then, you're all dismissed." He and his lover then disappeared around the corner.

Irked at Ratar-O for reminding him of his station but even more so at Iguano for his earlier impertinence, Slythe glared at his clan leader with unmasked loathing. "Don't even bother assssking. As far as I'm concerned, you can eat ssssshit." With a flick of his tail and without bothering to wait for a response, he then headed into the castle as well.

* * *

Lord Lion-O stepped out of the grand doors leading into Cat's Lair and walked along the carpeted path that had been laid to the podium halfway down the front staircase. A huge crowd was gathered in anticipation of his speech; the formal statement that the Thundercats were to give about the Battle of the Swords. The other Thundercats flanked him as he approached the podium, standing strong and offering their support. Lion-O was confident in his decision to pursue the peace that had been made with the people of Plundarr and its Moons, but he knew that not everyone on Thundera would be as accepting of the turn of events as the Thundercats had been. Old grudges died hard, and Lion-O was already not the most popular Thundercat Lord amongst some of the clan leaders given the changes in policy and tradition that he had instated on the New Thundera.

"Greetings, people of New Thundera," the lion called out over the crowd. "Many incredible things have happened as of late, and I'm sure you all have questions about them and the rumors you've been hearing. I've called this conference to set the record straight, and address your concerns." He paused to take a breath, and then continued. "First of all, I'm sure all of you that live in New Thundera City and nearby were witness to the Battle of the Swords and its storms and supernatural effects. As far as I know, no harm came to anyone outside the battlefield. I'm sure you'll all be glad to know that despite the unexpected turn of events, no Thundercats were killed or injured either. The only fatality was Prince Silvian of the Plundarrian Moons," Lion-O lowered his eyes and a somber and regretful note crept into his voice, "which I'm sorry to say occurred at my hand. Still," he looked out over the crowd with an earnest look in his eyes, "I swear upon the Code of Thundera, Sword of Omens, and very Eye of Thundera itself that I never wanted to kill the Lunatac prince, even though his group did land here with antagonistic intentions."

Lion-O paused for a moment and then continued. "It is true that the Lunatacs, as well as the Mutants, came here with full intent to fight and eliminate us Thundercats. I understand that it may be difficult for some of you to understand why then, in the end, I chose to make peace with them. The battle that we fought here on this very soil was emotionally charged on all sides. None of us knew that we were all being manipulated by Mumm-Ra; I was fooled by him just like Ratar-O of the Mutants and Silvian of the Lunatacs. Even as Mumm-Ra and Torlei enacted the ancient Incantation of Destruction foretold in the Book of Omens, we were all fooled into our conviction that we were doing what had to be done. All of New Thundera was at stake. Things went very badly, and could have ended far worse for all of us had it not been for Tygra and our newest addition, Snoelle." He gestured toward the tiger and snow leopard, who smiled in polite acknowledgement.

"Somehow they saw through Mumm-Ra's scheme for what it was, and with the help of some of our former enemies, determined a way to reverse it. The only way was to invoke the Incantation of Peace. Those of you familiar with the prophecies of old know what that means, but for those of you who aren't, the short version is that there are two legends surrounding our Sword of Omens and Eye of Thundera that tie to the ancient sister swords of the Mutants, the Sword of Plundarr, and the Lunatacs' sword the MoonSaber. It was said in the Book of Omens that if all three swords met in battle and the Incantation of Destruction was used that it would create a terrible weapon that would bring waste and devastation to all of the worlds, and presumably whoever was strong enough to survive would rule it all. The other was the Incantation of Peace, which if invoked by all three rightful rulers, would pave a path of harmony and allow a permanent alliance to be formed amongst Thundera, Plundarr, and its Moons. Mumm-Ra engineered the events to put the Incantation of Destruction into motion thinking he could get rid of all of us and take what was left for himself. Once that happened, the only way to stop it was the Incantation of Peace."

A flurry of murmurs went through the crowd, and Lion-O fell silent for a moment to allow them to digest the information before he went on. "Knowing all the pain and destruction both Mutants and Lunatacs have caused the Thundercats and Thunderian people in the past, it wasn't easy to put all of that aside on the faith that we would be starting with a clean slate from here on out. There's a lot of bad blood, and while the magic of the Incantation of Peace affected all of the Thundercats and those present once it was cast, I know it's not enough to make us forget everything that's happened. I ask that you, the good people of New Thundera, place the same faith in me, the Thundercats, and the magic of our ancestors that I placed in the Eye of Thundera when I invoked the Incantation of Peace against Mumm-Ra, that the right path was chosen." He lowered his head in a respectful nod as he finished his speech. "Thank you for your time."

As he finished speaking, a round of mixed applause and ripples of talk that ran the spectrum of shocked, excited, and perturbed went through the crowd. "You did well," Tygra said quietly, so that only those up close could hear, as he approached his side. "Your father and Jaga would be proud. You've turned into quite the statesman over the years."

"And you're right," WilyKat asserted with a smile of support. "Things will work out. The Mutants and Lunatacs are different, but I think that we really can make it work in an alliance with them."

"Who knew we'd ever see their gentler, softer sides?" WilyKit chortled.

The sound of someone's throat clearing caught the attention of both the Thundercats and the rest of the crowd. Natorven, the acting leader of the cheetah clan and representative of the cheetahs on the city council to the Thundercats, stepped forward. Cheetara straightened when she saw who it was that was about to speak. Although she did not exactly dislike Natorven on a personal level, the cheetah spokesman was a staunch traditionalist and had made it clear that while he was proud to see a cheetah rise to the station of marrying a Thundercat Lord, he was not pleased by the fact that the cubs of their union would be half-bloods that might not be able to master the abilities of their lineage. In that way, Natorven had a lot in common with Azandi, a lion on the city council born from one of the noble lion families. Azandi was more outspoken with his disapproval of Lion-O's marriage to a cheetah, noble or not, and the dilution of pure lion bloodlines. More than once he had hinted at the possibility that Chet would not be able to control the Sword of Omens, and that for the good of Thundera, their lord ought to consider formally recognizing a mistress to bear him full-blooded lion heirs that he could name as successors if he insisted on keeping his marriage to Cheetara in the name of love. Needless to say, there was little love lost between Azandi and Lion-O, and given that Natorven was reputedly a friend of his, both Lion-O and Cheetara were respectfully wary of him as well.

"Lord Lion-O?" Natorven addressed him.

"Councilman Natorven," Lion-O acknowledged with a polite nod. "Do you have a question?"

"I do, my lord. Firstly, let me say that your faith in the inherent goodness of both Mutant and Lunatac-kind is admirable. Some may think it naïve, but I sincerely hope that your ardent belief in it will prove the naysayers wrong." The cheetah's smile then faded. "However, asking the people of New Thundera to blindly trust those that have attacked, insulted, abused, and tried to enslave us is folly at best. Are we expected to give Mutants and Lunatacs free run on our world? Many Thunderians would just as soon shoot a Mutant, especially a reptilian, on sight. I realize you were a cub at the very end of the old wars before the old Thundera was lost and don't remember some of the atrocities, but…"

"My entire town was enslaved by a gang of reptilian raiders," a puma in the crowd spoke up. "Only eight of us managed to escape. I saw my mother get raped and my father beheaded for resistance at the hands of reptilians when I was six years old. I only survived because they didn't see me where my mother hid me in a closet!" he shouted. "And if you think I'm going to serve any reptilian that walks into my restaurant on the west side of the city—"

He was cut off by an angry leopard woman. "And Lunatacs? I've never heard of one of them dealing honestly and straight. Even the so-called respectable ones rip off Thunderians at the spaceports. My husband was forced to pay some darkling a fortune in 'protection' money on Cardrus where we were forced to live the years Thundera was gone."

"Lunatacs turned Grune the Destroyer against us and sparked the Gatoria riots, how are we supposed to forget that?" another irate voice in the crowd called out.

"No one's saying this will be easy," Lion-O stated, his voice loud and authoritative in an attempt to quiet the unrest. "I realize that many of us have suffered at the hands of Mutants and Lunatacs in the past. That's why I'm asking you to have some faith that things really have changed."

"Faith ain't gonna put a roof over our heads when our homes get trashed in a raid once our guard is down!" a panther called out. "Who's going to clean up the mess when they go back to their old ways?"

"_If_ they go back to their old ways," responded Lion-O, "the Thundercats will protect you. You have my word as Lord on that." The other Thundercats nodded their assent with Lion-O as he spoke.

From where he stood near Natorven, the lion councilman Azandi stepped forward and folded his arms across his chest. "And rest assured, Lord Lion-O, we and the Eye of Thundera will hold you to your word."

* * *

A large crowd was gathered into the grand ballroom of the MoonTower, set up for an opulent feast of food, drink, and socializing. The occasion was not a happy one, however, for it was the after-gathering of Prince Silvian's funeral. The somber ceremony had been held earlier in the day and had been attended by all of the surviving local nobility, government, and military as well as whatever citizens from the area could make it and there were room for. Both Silvian and Selene were popular amongst their people, for although they were young, the fact that they had survived the Thundera explosion disasters had been seen as a ray of hope that one day there would be a return to order somewhat like it had been before the wake of Thundera's explosion devastated the Plundarrian Moons.

The traditional feast held afterward was an open party as well, although naturally there was a high level of security on the premises from the military and guardsmen. Despite the sad circumstances, the gathering was rather lively. Though the exact traditions varied from moon to moon and race to race, the general belief of the Lunatac culture was that a warrior that died valiantly should have the mourners sad at his or her funeral and celebrating the life at the after-party, as the departed would be received by kin and loved ones since passed on into the astral. The lunar people of the Third Moon tended toward the extravagant and upscale, and as such the finest gourmet food and drink was served, with exotic imports and the prince's favorites of royal spirits served to the guests there to honor his life and passing.

For the Lunatacs of Skytomb and the immediate staff of the MoonTower it had also turned into an unofficial going away party for one of their own. Although TugMug had enjoyed his stay amongst the royalty in the MoonTower, the fact that he had been pardoned from his past crimes and was free to go where he pleased once more was too much of a lure for him to resist. All of the Lunatacs on Third Earth declared themselves to be free agents, but TugMug clung to that mantra more than the others, and even the lure of cushy digs was not enough to keep him from his chance at getting away from the shrew that had bossed him around for years once and for all. He did not exactly hate Luna, but she would never be his best friend, either, and while he held no animosity toward RedEye, Alluro, Chilla, or even Amok, a change of company after so many years with only them as companions was too tempting to pass up. TugMug wanted to return to his home moon of Tukabir, and reconnect with whatever kin he might have left and spend some time around sensible gravitons as opposed to stuffy royals.

That, and even though they were serving some "pretty good shit" as he had remarked to Frostor upon getting a stein full of his favorite First Moon brew from the open bar, nothing compared to the kind of homemade stuff that could be gotten only on Tukabir that individuals like Selene, Psiarik, or Frostor would probably have never heard of, let alone have the foresight to order.

Dressed in a fine new tunic of dark blue and gold befitting his newly recognized station as the father of the queen's husband, Alluro strode over to TugMug and requested a drink of his own. "So I hear you're leaving us for heavier pastures."

"Yeah." The graviton's response was blunt as he took a swig.

"Any plans, or are you just going as far from Luna as possible?"

"Yeah," TugMug said, and then added, "Pretty much. I'm surprised you're sticking around her, but I guess you can't pass up the free room and board in royal digs."

Alluro flashed a million dollar smile and smoothed a hand down what was left of his now trimmed and even long hair, nicely conditioned by one of Selene's many royal primpers. "This is the kind of life I always wanted, TugMug, way back in the days when I first wound up working for our dear leader. It didn't happen anywhere near how I ever thought it would, and for the longest time I thought the best we might get is something we conquered and would have to fight to keep, but I can't complain. Even if I do have to stay under the same roof as Luna, it's not like she's barking orders at me or threatening me with Amok anymore."

TugMug nodded. "So is Chilla staying with you? I'm sure Luna's staying put, and you can't separate Amok from her with a crowbar."

"We didn't really discuss it much. Too much has been going on." A sly smile crept across the hypnotist's lips. "But Chilla seems content to spend most of her nights with me still."

"Heh," chortled TugMug as he took another swig. "The fact that she didn't dump you or run for the nearest Lunatac that wasn't you, me, or RedEye must mean she actually likes you and wasn't just biding her time until she found something she liked better." He sneered in a half-sarcastic, half-friendly way at the psi. "Who would've thought that's how it'd go for her?"

Alluro's brow rose, but he chose to dismiss the insult in TugMug's statement and chalk it up to social ineptness rather than take umbrage at it. How could that fool truly comprehend the charm of a man like Alluro anyhow? "There was a time when she'd hardly have been my type either, but circumstance makes for strange bedfellows, and friends, I suppose." He swirled the Plundarrian whiskey in his glass. "Take care of yourself, TugMug, and do visit us sometime. I won't say it's always been fun, but you do keep things interesting, and truth be told, I'll miss your," he cleared his throat, "unique sense of humor."

The graviton grinned. "Let me know when the queen's throwing a good party and I'll be glad to crash it and spice it up!"

"Speaking of spice," Alluro said, casting his gaze in RedEye's direction where he was deep in conversation with Lushara, "do you think he'll follow your lead, or do you think she's spiced up his life enough that he'll be staying around?"

Laughing, TugMug said, "I don't know. I do know that it's been at least five years since he got laid, though, and that was with that weird alien hooker we gave a ride to back in the Odrax system. So he'll probably wait long enough for that!" He finished the rest of his drink and set it down for a refill.

That time Alluro chuckled. "Ah yes, I remember that. He mentioned that he gave her his 'own ride' which I found… interesting, considering that she was green and her mouth looked more an eel's than a Lunatac's."

"Guess he really wanted to suck face!" TugMug exclaimed, and then laughed while Alluro laughed with him. TugMug then picked up his refilled drink, and after giving it a hearty sampling swig, grinned again. "I wouldn't mind that myself, but not with a catfish woman. Nope, give me a nice busty graviton babe with pink hair that knows how to cook, and I'll be good to go."

"So you're saying you'd settle down?" Alluro smirked dubiously. "Good luck with that endeavor, that and finding a woman, even on Tukabir, who'd put up with you."

"If Chilla can put up with your arrogant pansy psi ass, a catch like TugMug has nothing to worry about!" he declared and then bounded off toward the crowd with a wave. "Have a good one, Alluro! Tell Luna I said goodbye and she's still a bitch!"

TugMug's boisterous voice carried over the crowd, but fortunately not as far as to Luna herself, who was with Amok, Vultureman, and Psiarik speaking to one of Frostor's higher ranking officers and one of the local magistrates from the neighboring city. The graviton's voice did carry far enough, however, to be overheard by both RedEye and Lushara. "Your friend is quite the character," the darkling woman remarked, shaking her head. "None of us quite know what to make of him, whether to be offended or laugh our asses off half the time. He's colorful even for a graviton."

RedEye chuckled heartily. "We've known him for years and we still don't know. But he's a good fighter, and despite his more," his eyes flashed, "unique habits, he was a valuable asset to our team. He's strong even for a first-mooner and knows how to handle cybernetics and weaponry. And it's always fun to watch him bend Luna out of shape."

A wry smile tugged at Lushara's lips. "I get the feeling that all of your crew makes a hobby out of that. Even you, the 'quiet' one."

"Amok is the quiet one. I'm just observant. I don't see a point in saying anything for the sake of doing it. Luna and Alluro do enough of that for everyone." He shook his head. "If I never have to hear about the 'next great plan' or 'if I only had my grandmother's belt' or Alluro talking about the DarkSide bees or the Egora talisman again it'll be too soon."

Lushara's red eyes fixed curiously on him. "Does that mean you're thinking of following TugMug's lead of moving on?"

"That depends," RedEye replied, looking back at her.

"On what?"

He straightened and smiled at her in a way that was, for RedEye, unusually forward and flirtatious. "On whether or not I have reason to."

Lushara tipped her drink to her lips, colored fashionably with dark green lipstick that made a pretty contrast with her pale darkling skin and shock of maroon-red hair, and matched the subtle powder she had shaded the area above her eyes with. "What reason would you need? Something to do or accomplish, or simply just someone asking you to?"

"I don't have any specific plans, and no one's said anything to me about it."

"Okay then." She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. Her fingers were thick and large like all dark-mooners', but in comparison hers were noticeably more slender and feminine than his. "Consider yourself asked."

RedEye was surprised at how readily his next response, and the warmth of feeling behind the smile that accompanied it, came. "Then consider me staying."

* * *

Nearly three weeks had passed since the Battle of the Swords. His turn of Third Earth guardianship duty over, Lynx-O returned to New Thundera for the first time since Snoelle's return and the epic battle had been fought that had secured a lasting peace between the Thundercats, Mutants, and Lunatacs. Cheetara had taken over his post in the Tower of Omens, and after a long ride on the Feliner he was glad to be back home. The others had kept him up to date on all that had happened in his absence, but the lynx looked forward to the chance to speak with their newest addition in person. As the oldest Thundercat, Lynx-O was the only one who actually remembered the era from which she originated and the reign of Lord Katan that had ended in his youth. As such, he hoped that they would be able to relate on a different level than the others and learn much from one another.

Snarf led him to the chamber, formerly guest quarters, that now belonged to Snoelle. The snarf rapped lightly on the door. "Snoelle, are you in there?"

"She's downstairs," WilyKit said from behind them, coming down the hall. "With Panthro, as usual." She smirked and then gave Lynx-O a warm smile. "Welcome back. You sure missed a lot while you were on Third Earth."

"Indeed," the lynx replied. "It seems all the excitement was here. Third Earth was very quiet, although it was nice to spend some time catching up with Pumyra and Pumari, and then Bengali afterward."

"You two really missed quite an experience at the Battle of the Swords, though if it had gone as badly as we thought it would for a while, at least you and Bengali were safe and far from it over on Third Earth," the younger Thundercat said with a shake of her head.

"Brrr, I know I was worried!" Snarf agreed. "I'm sure glad we turned that around in time."

"As is all of New Thundera, I'm sure," said Lynx-O. "I'm looking forward to meeting our new Thundercat. Snarf was just going to introduce me to her. You said that she's downstairs with Panthro?"

WilyKit nodded. "Yeah. Those two spend a lot of time together, if you know what I mean." She winked, and although the blind Thundercat could not see it, he certainly caught the wryness in her tone.

"From what I've heard, she's a rather attractive snow leopard as well as a fine Thundercat. I can see why a lady like that would catch his attention," the lynx said knowingly.

"But you ought to not tease him too much," Snarf pointed out in the lecturing tone he still took with WilyKit, her brother, and Lion-O at times, even though they had not been children for years.

"I don't," WilyKit said in a tone that, along with the roll of her eyes, made it clear she was not taking his admonishing that seriously. "I'm happy for Panthro and her if it works out. Everyone deserves to find happiness."

"Snarf snarf, on that I agree completely. Now if only we could get that stodgy Azandi to leave Lion-O alone about Cheetara and Chet, we'd be all set."

"And if you're calling him stodgy, you know he's an uptight stick in the mud," WilyKit teased the old snarf.

Lynx-O let out a good-natured laugh. "I'm glad to see that recent events haven't dampened your sense of humor any, WilyKit. How are you and your brother doing?"

"We're all right. Mumm-Ra and Torlei didn't really hurt us so much as trap us, although that magic telekinetic energy of hers burned like heck. Once the adrenaline of the battle wore off, we both slept for almost a day straight while the Thundrainium exposure worked its way out of our systems." She chortled as they made their way down Cat's Lair's grand staircase to the main floor. "I think we both learned our lesson about spelunking in old ruins that are haunts for the Ancient Spirits of Evil, even if we think they're empty."

"They certainly aren't forces that should be underestimated," agreed Lynx-O. The trio came into a sitting room where they found Snoelle and Panthro seated together on a couch in the midst of an intense conversation. The two looked up and stopped talking when they entered.

"Hi," Panthro greeted them, while Snoelle smiled.

"Snarf, WilyKit—is this the last Thundercat I've yet to meet?" Snoelle asked.

Snarf stood proudly, even though that brought the stout creature only to mid-thigh on the taller Thundercats accompanying him, and gestured to Lynx-O. "Yes. Snoelle, this is Lynx-O. He joined us back on Third Earth. Like Bengali and Pumyra, he was one of the survivors that escaped on a Berbil ship."

Snoelle rose to her feet and bowed gracefully before the lynx. "It's an honor to meet you, fellow Thundercat. I've heard a lot about you from your friends."

"And I you," Lynx-O replied, bowing back. "How wonderful it is that you survived after all this time, and that New Thundera has one of its snow leopards back! Your arrival has given us all hope that your noble clan may not be lost forever after all."

"I can only hope," she said with a wistful smile. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. I hear that you knew Lord Katan?"

"I knew of him, yes, and I was a cub during his reign. I hadn't quite reached adulthood when Lord Claudus took the mantle of leadership from his ill father. Lord Katan passed on to the astral about a year or so later. He was a good and honorable lion, and was much beloved by all of Thundera. More Thunderians, noble and commoner like myself alike, turned out at his funeral than you could imagine."

The snow leopard gave a thoughtful nod at the mention of the old Thundera's stricter class distinctions. "I keep forgetting that you, Pumyra, and Bengali were only citizens before Thundera was lost. I mean no disrespect, of course, but back in my time only the nobility were made Thundercats. It takes some getting used to remembering, but I think Lord Lion-O made a fine decision in bending that old tradition for the three of you. Merit and skill were always qualifications, but you three have certainly proven that it's what's in one's soul that counts, far more than any title."

Lynx-O nodded graciously. "Thank you. I'd also like to say that I'm so sorry for the loss of your kin. I knew a number of magistrates on the city council back in my days on the old Thundera, and several of the snow leopards that did their business in the capitol. They were fine cats, all of them. It grieved me deeply that they refused to listen to Lord Claudus and Jaga's urgings to leave Thundera before it was too late. Many of us tried to convince them that they should follow their instincts and flee, but they were steadfastly loyal to their clan leaders. Beyond trying to change their minds, they wouldn't hear of not standing by them. Sad as it is that they perished, I must respect them for that conviction."

"You can't help but respect anyone that holds the Code of Thundera that close," Panthro agreed. "It's a damn shame it turned out that way." He laid a hand on Snoelle's shoulder. "It sounds like you and Lynx-O have a lot of things you'd like to talk about. Do you want us to leave you be?"

"Oh, I couldn't throw you out," Snoelle told the panther with a wink, who smiled back at her while WilyKit nudged Snarf with her knee, an amused look sparkling in her eyes.

Lynx-O's keen hearing also detected the shuffle beside them, and he could guess at its meaning, though he chose not to comment on it. "I'd be happy to sit down and talk with all of you. Snarf is almost as old as I am, so he might be able to help me fill in a few gaps if you have questions."

"Sure," Snarf said, hopping onto a chair and settling in. "I'd be happy to, snarf snarf."

WilyKit leaned on the side of Snarf's chair. "I'd like to stay too if you don't mind. I like hearing about Old Thundera, since I was too young to remember much about it beyond what I saw as a kitten here in Cat's Lair."

"I don't mind at all," Snoelle said.

"Sounds like fun," agreed Panthro.

"In that case, let's make ourselves comfortable," Lynx-O said, and settled into a chair to answer the first of Snoelle's questions.

* * *

"You're absolutely sure, Chilla?" Alluro asked the ice woman at his side. The two of them were alone in his private suite in the MoonTower, her surprisingly reticent and sullen while he was simply stunned.

"Sure enough. I made that stupid healer test it three different ways, and they were all positive." She held out one pale blue arm that had a mark from where blood had been drawn. "I'm having a baby. Yours."

Alluro let out a long and bemused breath. "I just can't believe it. I thought we were careful. I knew you were in season, but…"

"Altheus was more than happy to point out that the 'withdrawal' method only has an eighty-eight percent success rate, and asked me why if I was that concerned, we didn't use something else. He recommended some pill for you men to take called the 'Silver Bottle'. I guess that's what it comes in or something."

"Eighty-eight?" Alluro scoffed. "That can't be right. This is hardly the first time you've used me to scratch your proverbial itch at that point in your cycle, even if it is the first that we've really considered our relationship any more than…" His voice trailed off, as words to classify whatever his relationship with Chilla currently was failed him. The truth was that although they had admitted to an emotional component to it since the Battle of the Swords, they had not really bothered to define what it was. Instead he just wrinkled his nose and challenged the healer's statistics, which were easier to argue with. "Anyway, cross-race matches have a far lower fertility rate than same-race ones, and we never used any more than the basic avoidance all those years on Third Earth when we would," his brow rose slightly as he considered a euphemism that would not be too vulgar or insulting, "seek one another's company for whatever reason. Eighty-eight is probably for a pure race mating."

Chilla's expression darkened further. "No, that's seventy-six according to him. He even offered to show me research citations to back it up. Apparently ever since the disasters, birth and reproduction research and data are a big deal, since there's this push to restore the Lunatac population."

"Humph, well I suppose they ought to be pleased we've done our part for the greater good then," the hypnotist mused sarcastically.

"Except that I had no warning that I'd be playing that part," Chilla muttered with a frosty hiss, and folded her arms across her chest with a sullen glower. As she did, she wondered how long it would be before her belly was so huge that they had something to rest on.

Alluro turned to the side, an odd look on his face. "Nor did I. Funny, less than a month ago when we came here, we had no idea that we'd find any ties to our past here on the Moons. Finding out I had a grown son I never knew about was shocking enough, but now this…"

"Yes." Chilla let out a frosty and cynical breath. "Luna recommended I send you to the healer for a refresher course on the basics of protection, since the concept apparently eluded you."

"She said what?" Alluro said indignantly, his voice rising. "Why that little—wait a minute, she knows?" He gave Chilla an incredulous stare. "You told Luna before me?"

"Of course not!" the ice woman exclaimed, none too pleased at his accusing tone. "Luna and Selene ambushed me into eating breakfast with them, and much as I didn't want to, I also figured it'd be stupid to be rude to the queen that's giving me free room and board, so I sat through it." She unfolded her arms and paced over to the mirror, where she could see her own aggravated expression along with Alluro's indignant one. "I mentioned I wasn't feeling well, and you know Luna, she's always nagging for details. I said a couple of things and they started armchair diagnosing me as pregnant. I went to the healer to get a professional opinion that would shut them up. I didn't expect him to prove me wrong instead."

The curl of insult and disgust upon Alluro's lips softened to a general frown. "So you didn't have any idea either?" His ear twitched with curiosity. He knew Chilla was less in touch with her feelings than most women, but she was also a woman that prided herself on her physical shape, so the notion that she would have missed what he imagined would be obvious signals of pregnancy to a female surprised him.

"No! I thought I was just run down or something, and that the dessert last night didn't agree with me." She sat down on the bed and sighed, a thick mist of ice crystals coming from her mouth as she did so. "That doesn't matter now anyway. Now we have to figure out what to do about this." Chilla looked up at him for a response. "I don't expect you to fall at my feet, declare undying love, and marry me or anything. I know you too well. What I do expect is you to acknowledge the child and treat it with the same regard you've given Psiarik, even if this one isn't pre-raised and married to a queen that gives you perks as a result of it."

The psi's eyes narrowed at her cold and pragmatic tone. "I'm insulted that you think you need to say that. You say you know me well enough; well you ought to know that I'm not that cold, not to you anyway, or my kin."

Chilla rose to her feet again. "Look, I'm just saying what I expect out of it. Don't start reading more into it than that."

"You know how loyal I was to Torlei," Alluro snapped back at her, his ego still quite bruised. "And I thought that I made it clear how important Psiarik is to me now that I know about him. If I _had_ known about him back then, and we hadn't been run off the moons, I would've married his mother."

"Of course you would've! She was your meal ticket to a place in the nobility and away from Luna once and for all! You didn't love her."

His expression darkened further. "That wouldn't have been the only reason."

"Whatever," Chilla said with exasperation. "My point is that I know this situation isn't the same."

"You're right. It isn't." Alluro straightened haughtily and gave Chilla a pointed look. "Like you said, I didn't love Lurella."

A silence fell over them as the underlying meaning of Alluro's words sank in, and Chilla blinked, stunned. "You're saying you—"

"Gods, yes," Alluro said, that time his words exasperated, both at her and himself. He supposed he had known he had feelings of that depth for Chilla for some time, especially since they had connected so closely after the Battle of the Swords, but he just needed a proverbial kick in the pants to come out and admit it both to himself and her. "I do love you, Chilla… difficult as you are."

"Romantic, insulting me and saying you love me at the same time," she retorted with raised eyebrows. "And you're supposed to be the suave one of our crew."

He mirrored her dubious look. "A woman like you hardly makes it easy," he said, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose that's part of the reason why. You are quite the challenge. And that _isn't_ an insult." As he looked at her, Chilla found herself unable to come up with words to respond, and after a moment he filled the silence with another query. "So with that little matter cleared up, if I was to do the 'right thing' and ask you to be my wife and make at least one of my children legitimate, would you accept?" The look in his eyes intensified as he then added, "And not only for the child's sake, but because you wanted to? My feelings are out on the table, so where do yours stand?"

Chilla tapped her fingers anxiously against her arm, increasingly uncomfortable under Alluro's gaze. She knew he was not using his hypnotic powers on her, but she almost wished that he was. At least then whatever she said might not come back to haunt her and make her feel foolish and weak for trusting a self-admitted manipulator. "I—I want to say yes," she admitted. "I want this… whatever we've got… to work out. But I don't want to be made a fool of." She stared at him, her eyes both hard and vulnerable at the same time, a strange dichotomy that fascinated Alluro and made him desire her all the more. "If I say yes, don't make me regret falling in love with you."

A smile that was both heartfelt and smug spread across Alluro's face as Chilla backhandedly admitted that she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. He took her hands into his, and stroked her white-gloved fingers with tenderness and affection. "I wouldn't dream of it, dear Chilla. So when do we make our announcement that the king's father is going to be married?"

"Tomorrow," Chilla replied with a wry grin. "Let Luna stew in her conjecture for a night about how many ways I'm going to frost you where it counts before we disappoint her."

Alluro chuckled. "Love puts you in a good mood, Chilla. You're even feeling charitable toward the old bat."

"I blame hormones."

"Works for me," Alluro replied playfully, and drew Chilla in for a lingering and passionate kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

The amused Jackalman was still grinning even after his laughter had stopped. He made his way through the royal palace of the Mutant Warrior King with a message in hand to share with someone he knew would find it as funny as he did. He rapped on the door of Slythe's office. "Slythe? You in there?" the jackal called.

A plump little gray rodent Mutant on staff came up from behind. "He's not in there, Liaison Jackalman," the rat said, greeting him by the formal title he held for his work in Ratar-O's court. "He's in the kitchen."

_Just like Ratar-O's little bitch_, Jackalman thought with a sneer, but he chose not to say it, lest the weasely little rat go and repeat his words to someone he would rather not hear them, such as Slythe himself. The reptile might not have had his previous lofty station any longer, but he still had his bulk and fists. "Oh? I'll have to pay him a visit there then. Maybe I can, nyah, get a sample of what's being served for dinner!" He chuckled and headed off to the huge kitchen that served Ratar-O's palace.

He found Slythe in there, arms folded, wielding a giant tenderizing mallet as though he was going to tenderize the head chef with it. "I can sssssmell that infernal bolatzi powder all the way in my office. I told you it ruins the gravy, and it's expenssssive to boot. Now re-make that and have this dumped in the moat where it belongs, yesss!"

Jackalman sniffed at the air, not finding the offensive scent that had Slythe's scales up in arms. Of course his keen canine senses could smell the spice in contention, but he did not mind it as much as the reptilian apparently did. "Making sure everything's tasty and delicious for Ratar-O's banquet with the simians this evening?"

"Get your mangy hide out of the kitchen. We're trying to keep vermin out," Slythe retorted when he saw who was speaking to him.

"I'm hurt," Jackalman said with a mock pout on his muzzle. "And here I just came to tell you something that might brighten your day."

"My day would be brightened by one lesssss idiot ruining it," he said, and cast a sharp glare at the cook he had just finished hollering at, who was muttering Plundarrian curses under his breath as he disposed of the gravy that Slythe had declared unfit for Mutant consumption. Slythe glowered at him for a moment to be sure that he was doing as he had been ordered, and then turned back to Jackalman with a dubious look on his face. "So what do you want, Jackalman?"

Holding up the message in his furred hands, the jackal grinned again. "I thought you might find this as amusing as I did. It's a message from Vultureman over on the Third Moon."

The reptilian rolled his eyes. "This day gets better and better. What does that buzzard want?"

"Nothing, just to share some news about our old pals the Lunatacs." He snickered. "There's going to be a wedding."

That made the reptilian do a double-take. "Wedding? What fool would be dessssperate enough to marry Luna?"

"Not Luna," Jackalman corrected him, chortling again. "Nyah, I can't imagine anyone pathetic enough to sink to that low."

"It'd be a cold day in the pit of flames before I could see anyone doing it," Slythe agreed. "So who, then?"

"Chilla," Jackalman told him. "To Alluro."

Slythe eyed Jackalman strangely for a moment, and then let out a hearty belly laugh as he pictured a wedding between the iciest bitch of Third Earth and the arrogant hypnotist that was inarguably more effeminate than his alleged bride. "All right, you got me that time, yesss! And it was actually pretty creative for something you'd come up with. I needed that!"

Laughing with him for a moment, Jackalman shook his head. "But I'm serious! If you don't believe me, look at this. Vultureman sent it himself." He handed Slythe the message.

The reptilian snatched it away and read it, the expression on his face flickering between amused, bewildered, and puzzled seemingly in time with the way his tail swished back and forth. "I was about to wonder if that buzzard had finally lost it over there with those crazy Lunatacs, but maybe not." He laughed again. "Chilla and Alluro getting married not just for love," he made a face indicating how ridiculous such a notion was to him, "but because they _have_ to, yesss! I wonder if Luna ordered them to do that."

"To have unprotected sex, or to get married?"

Slythe snickered along with his former jackal comrade. "Maybe ordering Chilla to get laid would lighten her up, but I didn't think Alluro could take that kind of heat—or cold."

"I didn't even think he went that way," Jackalman quipped, and the two mutants chortled again. "But then again, he does have a son, so I guess not."

"You'd think someone that could help our former inventor come up with something like that telepathy beam could figure out the basics of protection."

"Maybe Chilla doesn't like how they feel. You know she wears the pants in that relationship, even if she is in a dress."

Slythe sneered at Jackalman. "You mean like your wife?" He then shook his head. "So which one do you think will get stuck changing diapers?"

Ignoring the dig at him, Jackalman replied, "Nyah, they ought to make Luna do it, since she's full of it anyway."

* * *

Despite the Mutants' crude conjecture about the situation, Alluro and Chilla's wedding took place without much incident. There was some tension prior to the ceremony, where Luna made barbed remarks about the inappropriateness of Chilla wearing a white wedding dress, regardless of the fact that it was the ice woman's favorite color, and an unfortunate lunar stylist nearly had her hot curling iron shoved in an unpleasant place when she brought it too close to the icewalker's head, but other than that it proceeded smoothly. Alluro had been in his element at center stage with so many important individuals of the Moons wishing him well, and had basked in the spotlight even more than his bride, who he had to admit looked absolutely lovely in her shimmering gown and the emerald-encrusted sapphire necklace set in platinum that she had worn to ceremony. That had turned out to be their wedding gift from Selene, who mentioned at the reception afterward that it was only fitting that her stepmother-in-law have some lovely jewelry befitting her station. Psiarik confided later that while the gift was generously intended, it was also given because Selene liked any excuse to shop and already had more jewelry than she could reasonably wear in any amount of time. Alluro, of course, did not mind, for anything that made Chilla look beautiful also made him look good with her on his arm.

The reception had been interesting. TugMug came back from Tukabir to attend and he livened up the party. Luna had convinced Selene to send the invitation at the last minute so that he could not possibly show up in time to attend Alluro's bachelor party and embarrass the whole royal household. Though certainly TugMug would have seen to it that first class booze and hot strippers abounded, Alluro's bachelor party was still a swanky little affair held in a classy club in town. Psiarik delegated the task to some of the MoonTower's staff that specialized in party-throwing, and they had a fun night out. While not in the abundance TugMug surely would have brought them, a stripper or two still made it in despite Selene and Luna's attempts to keep the affair proper. Rumor had it that Frostor was to blame for that. While he did not comment on that one way or another, he certainly did have a comment about a remark he heard through the grapevine that he could not pin down on any one in particular, although there was a list of usual suspects—the quip being that with all the time he spent around Luna, he wanted to see some prime eye candy for a change.

RedEye even had fun, although his friends needled him a bit about his apparent lack of interest in the pretty Lunatac ladies serving their drinks and meal. He pointed out that with his vision, strippers did not appeal much since he could get an eyeful of what was under the clothing of just about any woman anywhere that caught his attention anyway. Alluro and Psiarik followed up by pointing out that Lushara might as well stop wearing clothes around him altogether, then, and the normally quiet darkling only made token protests to that. The grin he had on his face during them, however was too telling for them to be very believable. After a few drinks, Alluro eventually got his old Skytomb companion to admit that he and the darkling woman of the MoonTower were involved romantically. RedEye was quick to point out however, that unlike Alluro, he knew how to use the Silver Bottle so no one would need to worry about another rush wedding anytime in his near future.

Jokes about that, and about whether or not he and Lushara would be next anyway followed, but as it turned out, fate had a different individual in mind for the next union. At the reception, TugMug was at the open bar getting a refill on his beer when Chilla's headdress toss—a custom loosely borrowed from another culture in which the ceremonial tiara that Lunatac women wore in their marriage ceremonies was thrown to the unmarried female guests at the wedding—occurred. A boisterous graviton woman with pink hair styled into a fluffy mohawk, a longtime friend of one of the castle staff, had been let into the reception on the sly. She had joined the crowd to catch the lucky tiara and made no bones about shoving others out of her way to get it. Athletic as Chilla was, she threw like a ball player and it vaulted way into the back of the crowd. The graviton set her sights on the headdress like a hawk and caught it—just as she barreled into TugMug at the bar, knocking him over and covering them both with his stein full of Eclipse Stout. She and TugMug spent the rest of the wedding reception together. Nobody asked questions afterward, but it was plain enough that the two had hit it off.

When the whirlwind evening was over, Alluro and Chilla departed on a luxury ship for a resort on the ice moon for their honeymoon. Although Alluro was no fan of wintry weather, as long as their hotel was posh and served hot drinks, and there was a hot tub calibrated for non-icewalkers, he was set. Chilla looked forward to the vacation on her home moon, somewhere cold enough that the average lunar would not be able to follow her outside without their lips turning blue and their babble catching in their throat. Chilla also had the thought that it would work well if Alluro got on her nerves, too. Just because she married him, it did not mean that she expected him to suddenly not be an arrogant and egotistical jerk. If the truth was to be told, she would not have him any other way.

* * *

Shortly after Alluro and Chilla's wedding and departure, Frostor approached Selene and Psiarik in a quieter moment when the three of them were alone together. "I need to speak with you both," he said in a serious tone.

"What is it?" asked Psiarik.

"With all that's been going on, and given that it hasn't been that long since we lost Silvian, I wasn't sure whether to bring this up or not," he began, frowning as he rubbed his beard. "But since Alluro and Chilla's wedding and the news about the king having a half-sibling being born will come out soon, it'll probably lead to talk anyway."

Selene frowned. "What do you mean, Frostor?"

The ice general looked from the queen to her psi husband. "The disasters changed a lot, but you ruling is one thing that's part of the old society that stayed put. While that's a good thing, it means that while survival trumps tradition on a number of levels, it doesn't do it for all of them." Frostor gave them a sharp look and then continued. "I'm sure you both know that in pre-disaster society, your marriage never would've been permitted. Had you defied tradition and married outside of an approved royal bloodline match, you'd likely have been disowned and Silvian named the heir. As it is, the Lunatac people were more worried about what the next day would bring than who the queen married after it all hit the proverbial fan, so there wasn't much protest made with you marrying Psiarik. Even in the unlikely event that you two would choose to have children given the risks involved, the throne probably would've passed to Silvian or his children after you, given his full royal bloodline."

Nodding, Selene said, "Yes, we talked about all that back then." The young queen had been disappointed back when she had been told that it would be ill-advised for her to bear children with the man she had fallen in love with, as she had always imagined having a family someday. Unfortunately, lunar-psi hybrid babies averaged a size far larger than a woman of her stature could safely give birth to. Lunar-psi crosses were not all that uncommon, but generally the mother was the psi and the father the lunar. Selene had since reconciled herself to being childless, but now that Frostor brought it up, she had a feeling that a change in plans was about to be suggested given that her brother was no longer in the picture.

Psiarik also guessed what Frostor was thinking. "And now that Silvian's gone, and because he never married a lunar noblewoman or had heirs, Selene's the last of the family."

"The last direct member, yes," Frostor said. "She has relations, such as Luna and other cousins, and while they won't challenge Selene directly, the birth of your half-sibling," he looked at Psiarik, "will be seen as a threat should something happen to Selene, because under normal circumstances, such a familial tie would mean that he or she could potentially be named your successor. Also, by traditional law, you would step aside for a more legitimate claim, and being a psi, just about any lunar with a royal bloodline would consider him or herself more legitimate than you and any relation of yours not tied to Selene. The fact that your mother's family was noble-born might make a little difference, but probably only to other psis. Certainly not lunars, and if you did wind up keeping the throne, you can bet that icewalkers, darklings, gravitons, and every other race or cross on the moons would wonder why a throne that had previously been exclusively for the lunars was suddenly open to psis but not them. It'd start ugly civil unrest, and both you and Alluro and Chilla's child would be ripe assassination targets for anyone looking to assert that their claims are more valid. Unless—"

"Unless we had an heir," Selene finished.

Frostor nodded. "If you had a child or two, your line would be continued. Some might grumble about half-breed blood on the throne, but very few would have the nerve to challenge the legitimate son or daughter of the lunar queen by bloodline. It would also lay unwanted speculation about Psiarik's half-sibling, born to low-born pardoned criminals, someday getting a claim on the throne to rest. The Moons are in a volatile state as it is, and adding political upheaval to it would only make it worse."

Putting his hands on Selene's shoulders, Psiarik frowned and said, "What about the risk that'd put on her? We were told back when we got married that her having my child would be dangerous."

"Don't think I haven't thought about that," the ice general replied. "You know I think of you like my own daughter, Selene. But that's also why I'm concerned, because I think now that Silvian's gone, for the good of the Moons the risk of not securing your line is greater than the risk of bearing a child."

"And we do have better healers and doctors now than we did years ago when the disasters had us cut off. We're a lot more connected than we were to the other moons for finding expert advice. That kind of medical assistance isn't hard to get anymore." She turned toward Psiarik thoughtfully. "I know Altheus has delivered a number of babies. I'm sure he could keep an eye on me, and perform a surgery if necessary." She sighed. "Which I'm pretty sure it will be."

"You'll consider it then?" Frostor pressed.

Selene and Psiarik eyed one another for a brief and silent consensus. "It's your decision," he said to Selene. "I'll do my part, whatever you choose."

"Like your part is such a chore, right?" she teased with a wink before resuming a serious tone. "All right Frostor. I think you're right too. We'll plan on having an heir as soon as the gods allow it." She smiled, as a part of her was elated at the notion of resurrecting a fancy she had long since written off. That was not to say she was not also a bit wary and daunted, but she felt confident that somehow she would make it, and was already wondering if their heir would be a little lunar-psi boy or girl.

Frostor smiled at the royal couple. "And when you do, I hope I get to be named an honorary grandfather."

"Yeah, you and Dad on the other side," Psiarik said with a chortle. "I bet Luna will never let him live that down."

Selene pursed her lips in mild disapproval, although her eyes sparkled with happiness. "Maybe it'll get her off the rather inappropriate subject of his unfamiliarity with birth control." She shook her head. "Aunt Luna is quite the little gossip-monger at times."

"But she does keep things entertaining, I'll give her that." Frostor let out a frosty chuckle. "However, I'd keep your plans for extending the royal family out of her ears until you're sure when and how you're proceeding with them. Otherwise she'll no doubt have plenty of 'advice' of her own, and the gods know what she'll say to who about it."

At that Selene smiled wryly. "Oh Frostor, I like Aunt Luna, but give me a little credit, will you?"

"Just making sure," Frostor said with a grin, and then left the royal couple to themselves to talk.

* * *

Alluro returned to the MoonTower after a day out in the city. He had met with some of the local magistrates and councilmen as a favor to Psiarik and Selene, who were tending to business on other Moons, and Frostor who was preoccupied with military projects. Afterward he and a couple of them had lingered at the café they had lunch at for drinks, and he had spent a couple of hours chatting with one of the council liaisons who he found to be rather interesting company, a hunter Lunatac named Darkail. Unlike most hunters, Alluro found Darkail to be quite civilized and pleasant. The two of them were in the midst of a lively conversation well after the meal had ended when Alluro got a call from the MoonTower.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice smooth and suave as always.

"Alluro," Lushara said on the other end, "Where are you?"

"Out in the city. Why?"

"You need to get back to the MoonTower. Now." The darkling's husky voice held a note of urgency.

The psi lowered his voice and waved to Darkail to excuse him for a moment as he turned to the side. "What's going on?"

"Chilla's in labor. Altheus took her over to the medical bay in the military complex a little while ago."

Alluro's eyes widened. "This soon? I thought she wasn't due for at least another month."

"Hybrid births can be unpredictable. She was having some pains earlier and it's a good thing she actually listened to me and Luna, because it took an hour for us to convince her to see Altheus to begin with," Lushara told him. "She's been ill-tempered all day, and while that's not that unusual for Chilla, after she iced one of the staff that got in her way, I caught her ducking into a room and found her doubled over. I figured it'd be better to push the issue and brought the healer to her."

"She's all right though?"

"Yeah, but they pretty much said that baby's coming tonight one way or another, even if it takes surgery. They're worried about blood temperature fever. Apparently she's got all the signs of it."

Alluro let out a sigh. "I'll be over right away then." He switched off the communicator and turned to Darkail, who eyed him with an inquisitive and mildly concerned look.

"I take it something's come up?" the hunter said, and Alluro nodded to him.

"Chilla's gone into labor, and apparently dealing with complications. One of the court just called to let me know."

"Ah, sorry to hear that." Darkail rose to his feet and bowed to him slightly in a cordial gesture of parting. "Best wishes to you both then, and your child. I'm sure that the medical staff will take care of everything. If it's the fever some icewalker women get in bearing warm-blood children, it's readily treatable in a modern facility. They'll both be fine."

"If that child is even half as tenacious as Chilla, I'm sure you're right." Alluro bowed back to Darkail. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

Darkail smiled back. "Give me a call the next time you're in the city. I'll buy you a drink for your wife and your baby."

Grinning despite his growing anxiousness, Alluro still managed to flash his new friend a million dollar smile. "I'll take you up on that."

* * *

Alluro made the trip back to the medical facility in record time. Although he was a civilian, he was well enough known as Psiarik's father that he had the same clearance anyone on the court did, which was quite high. When he got there he found Lushara, Luna, and Amok all waiting.

"Glad you made it," Lushara greeted him, amazingly before Luna could get a word in. "I promised I'd stick around until you got here, since I was one of the ones who admitted her, and she's not talking to Luna."

"Crazy hormonal woman," the tiny lunar muttered irritably. "She should be glad I'm overlooking her tantrum. I go to her out of concern and the goodness of my heart—"

"I'm sure annoying the ice out of her does wonders for her well-being," Alluro said with a roll of his eyes, cutting her off while Lushara finished.

"Anyway, since you're here, I'm going to head out. I was supposed to meet RedEye about forty minutes ago, but I told him what was going on and that I'd be by after you showed up. Let me know how it all turns out, and if it's a boy or a girl."

Alluro raised an eyebrow. "I thought you and RedEye both knew already."

"We do, but occasionally we can be wrong if the baby's not positioned right." Lushara grinned widely enough to show her short row of darkling teeth. "And I want to be able to rub it in to those who didn't take our word for it and lost in the betting pool." She turned toward Luna. "Oh, and Luna? Let me know about the other half of the betting pool results, okay?"

At that the sour-faced lunar woman's face twisted into a sneer. "Certainly."

Lushara smirked and waved, and a moment later it was just Alluro, Luna, and Amok left in the waiting area. "The other half?" he inquired with a curious twitch of his ear.

Luna snickered. "The bet some of us have on how you'll handle this… whether you'll a) make it into the delivery room at all without chickening out, b) show up and run out with fire beams and/or ice blasts chasing you, or c) show up and actually make it through the delivery to witness the child being born." She gave him a catty look. "I'll leave it to you to figure out who bet on what."

The psi narrowed his eyes. "At least I could make it in there without setting her off into a rage that you conveniently blame hormones on rather than your sparkling personality."

If she was fazed by his insulting sarcasm, she did not show it. Instead she just said, "I don't see you heading in there yet."

"I don't even know exactly where she is, or what sort of garb I'm expected to put on to go in, for one," he snapped in response. "What do you expect?"

"Oh, I can easily fix that," Luna replied, and shrieked in the direction of two medical staff. "You! Are you doctors or nurses?"

The two Lunatacs, a male and a female and both lunars wearing scrubs, came over to them. "We're nurses," the male said in a haughty tone that made it clear he did not appreciate being barked at like someone's flunky. "And you're creating a miserable ruckus in a medical facility, so kindly keep your voice down."

Luna was not impressed. "Queen Selene is a relation of mine, and I don't think she'll care to hear that you're giving me and her father-in-law a hard time. He's here to see his wife, she's in delivery?" She pointed at the doors through which Chilla had been taken earlier.

"Oh, Lord Alluro, you made it here," the female greeted him. "Excellent. Your wife's been asking where you were. We'd heard you'd been called but not that you came yet."

"I'm here now," Alluro said impatiently, ignoring Luna in favor of those who had something important to say. "How is Chilla?"

"The psi healer Altheus and another of our doctors are in there with her. She's been having a rough time, slipping in and out of consciousness. Her body temperature's been fluctuating so we've been administering fluids. The child's blood is warmer than hers but not quite as much so as a warm-blood psi like her father. It happens often in mixed-race births with an ice-born mother. Their conditions are stable with constant attention, although if we'd gotten her in here sooner it wouldn't have progressed to this state."

The other nurse nodded as she spoke. "She was over a month early though, and given it's her first child we understand she didn't realize it was labor or recognize some of the symptoms of the fever. She's expected to deliver any time now. Fortunately surgery won't be necessary, which is good, as with the fever it just invites infection."

"Would you like to see her?" the female nurse questioned.

Alluro caught Luna smirking out of the corner of his eye, which irritated him, although he chose not to acknowledge it. "Certainly."

"This way then." The male lunar gestured for him to follow them through the doors. As he did, he cast Luna a superior and smug look over his shoulder. Once they were out of her sight beyond the doors he asked the two nurses, "So when are the drugs administered?"

"Oh, there're no drugs, Lord Alluro." The female nurse shook her head. "Lady Chilla made it quite clear that she wanted to go natural." She wrinkled her nose. "I've only seen a handful of icewalker women opt for drugs when they're not mandated for surgical or similar medical reasons. It's a cultural thing, and probably for the best in this case given that we ought to know if she's experiencing pains that arise from fever complications rather than the childbirth itself." She turned to Alluro with a questioning look. "I take it she didn't discuss that with you?"

He shook his head. "No, although I suppose that's her choice anyway," he said and shrugged. "But if you've already got them set out just in case, I'll take them."

"Ah, sympathy pains?" the other nurse asked, assuming that the psi was feeling for his mate on an empathic level, while Alluro laughed at the inaccurate assumption.

"No, but have you ever been on the receiving end of an angry Second Mooner's ice or fire burns? If I'm going in there, I want something numbing my pain ahead of time."

Both of the nurses chortled along with him. "Tell you what," the woman said, and directed him down the hall to a door locked by a keypad. She entered a sequence and the door opened to reveal a short flight of stairs. The room at the top was well-lit, and Alluro could see a glass wall on the right hand side. "That's our secured observation room that looks in on the emergency suites here, including delivery. Your wife is in the fourth unit down. Usually this is reserved for medical students, but we've had a father or two that wanted to witness the event but couldn't be in there for one reason or another use this for that purpose. We'll let her know you're there with her. I'm sure she'll find it quite comforting."

"And I'll find it more comfortable than frostbite in a most unpleasant place," he replied smoothly. "Thank you. Oh, and if you please, wait for Chilla and I to disclose anything on her condition to anyone waiting. Luna can be impatient, but I'd rather fill her and the others in on everything myself."

"Of course," the male nurse agreed.

"Though if you have any tips on keeping her highness' relation—her aunt, is it?—mollified, they'd be much appreciated," said the other nurse.

"Lollipops," Alluro told her. "Her brute loves candy, and Luna's got the temperament of a child, so perhaps a sucker will pacify her for a moment or two."

The two nurses nodded in agreement and then left Alluro to ascend the stairs, closing the door behind him. He found the room where Chilla was delivering her baby and looked down through the glass. The room was chaotic, with her on a stretcher-bed in the center of it with Altheus at one side and a garbed physician at the other. Nurses went in and out to bring items and check on equipment while Chilla herself looked furious. Alluro could see scorch marks in various spots in the room and felt at once that he had made the wise decision to be with his dear Chilla from behind safety glass. A moment later after one of the nurses went to her side, Chilla looked up in the direction of the glass and saw him. Alluro waved and gave her a charming smile. Her response was to holler something loud and full of profanity, followed with a hiss of ice that did not quite make it all the way up to the window, but still deposited some frost crystals on it nonetheless.

Alluro grinned back, partly because if she was that energetic, it meant that Chilla was feeling well enough to be herself, and therefore the medical staff had her situation under control. The other part was merely an expression of thanks to the gods for inventing safety glass.

* * *

"Why isn't he in here?" the pained and flustered Chilla snarled at anyone in the room who would answer.

"It's safest for Lord Alluro to be with you and your baby from there," one of the nurses answered smoothly. "Now be a dear and push."

Chilla let out a nose that was somewhere between a grunt of exertion and a scream of frustration, and a frosty mist of air came from her lips and nostrils. "What do you think I'm doing? I'd like to push him, right off a cliff!" she hissed with another glower at Alluro. "Tell that coward I want him in here now!"

"As the nurse said, it's a safety issue," the lunar doctor said, and turned to Altheus. "Direct energy toward the feet and torso of the fetus. A turn of a few degrees to the left should ease the passage a bit."

While Altheus applied a slight pressure to Chilla's swollen abdomen and directed a warm flow of healing telekinetic energy through her skin to the unborn child, Chilla craned her neck to glower past the psi's head to snap back at the doctor. "What safety issue? Blood temperature fever isn't contagious!"

"No, but your temper is certainly dangerous," Altheus pointed out gently, but firmly. "To all of us, most of all you and the baby. Wrenching yourself into the wrong position to share the pains of birth with him not only puts us at risk, but could make the bleeding worse." He moved one hand from her abdomen to a pulse point on her shoulder and concentrated on a cool and soothing flow of energy intended to have a calming effect.

The doctor nodded to one of the nurses by the monitor. "Push again."

"When did I stop?" the irate Chilla retorted.

"Give a big one then," the doctor said. "Direct that energy you have at Lord Alluro behind the glass into delivering your healthy baby—"

On cue, and brought about by a burst of stimulating energy from the hand Altheus had over her belly, Chilla let out another cry of exertion and winced in a way that led Alluro, watching from above, to wince as well. He wondered why Chilla insisted on foregoing the painkillers to prove something as trivial as mere bragging rights about pain tolerance. Surely if he had been the woman delivering a child, he would have insisted on the full gamut of nerve blockers and analgesics. He still was mildly disappointed they had not allowed him to have them now, after all. A small dose of narcotic would have done wonders for his nerves and the rest he could take home for when Chilla was recovering and likely to be in a foul mood.

"Girl!" Altheus called out as the doctor pulled the child the rest of the way out of the womb and into the world. "Congratulations, Chilla. You have a healthy daughter."

"Seems to be the case, yes," the doctor agreed with a cursory look at the infant before passing her to an attending nurse while he cut the cord. "Run her vitals while we take care of the afterbirth and get the mother's bleeding under control." He turned to another nurse. "Draw up the ice gel and antibiotics for the fever."

Chilla's attention flickered anxiously between the baby, already whisked off to another part of the room, to the doctor and Altheus. "No need to worry," Altheus assured her. "They're just getting weight and height, tissue retentions for medical records, and doing a quick medical exam. She'll be back to you shortly." He smiled and looked up at Alluro, projecting a telepathic message that was the easiest way for psis to communicate in such circumstances. _In case you weren't able to tell from up there, your baby's been born and she's fine from the looks of things. Congratulations on the birth of your daughter._

The sudden mind speech caught Alluro off guard, but it was a welcome surprise and he projected back a brief acknowledgement while his attention shifted from Chilla to the nurses busily cleaning, weighing, measuring, and testing the tiny crying infant below. I have a daughter, he thought dazedly. With Chilla. Though months of awareness of the fact had obviously not eluded him, now that it had actually happened and she had been born it still struck him to actually see it for himself. He leaned closer to the glass to try and see the baby, who even from that distance he could tell had inherited the psi skin tone and, he was certain, the good looks of her father. Around her head was a subtle wispy whiteness that he imagined was her mother's fine white hair, and he grinned. Perfection! But then, he thought proudly, what else could be expected from the child of Alluro?

One of the nurses wrapped the baby in a blanket and brought her to Chilla's side while the doctor stood by and Altheus stood back, indicating for her to go ahead and hand Chilla her baby. "Here you go."

Despite her exhaustion and the dizzying sensations of the cold ice gel now circulating in her veins to bring her temperature back to optimal levels, Chilla took the purplish-skinned infant into her arms and looked at her with a sense of awe. _ This was in me?_ It was almost an alien sensation for one who had never had much maternal instinct or drive to have a child prior to the surprise of finding out she was carrying one. The feel of the baby's weight in her arms made her snort in a half-amused chortle. Her first words to her newborn were, "You didn't feel this small coming out."

* * *

When Snoelle came to breakfast that morning and sat down, she was surprised when shortly after she took her seat, Snarf came in and put a delicious-looking fresh baked and iced coffee cake right on the table in front of her. In the midst of pouring herself a cup of Berbil-berry juice, she said, "What's the occasion?"

The other Thundercats present smiled back at her while Snarf answered. "Surprise! This cake is for you. Today it's been a year since you've been back with us."

"Oh Snarf! You shouldn't have!"

"Are you kidding?" Panthro replied with a grin. "We wouldn't dream of not celebrating something important like that."

"That and Panthro forgot your birthday," WilyKat teased from across the table as he picked up a piece of bacon.

WilyKit giggled along with her brother. "Or he really wanted an excuse to get Snarf to bake something special for breakfast."

The plump little snarf brrr-ed with a pretense of being put out, although it was more show than anything else. "Oh, you two."

Panthro meanwhile brandished a butter knife in the twins' direction with mock threat. "I'll have you two know I did not forget Snoelle's birthday."

"Oh yeah? When was it?" Snarfer challenged with a twitter.

That time Snoelle laughed as she watched Snarfer carve her a thick slice of cake. "It's not for another week and a half."

Young Pumari fidgeted impatiently with her fork in hand while Snarf went ahead and cut her the next piece. "You mean we missed it last year?"

"Well, there were more important things going on at the time. I'd all but forgotten myself until it was just about over." Snoelle took a bite of cake. "Oh Snarf, this is delicious! Now I know why everyone's been eyeing it so hungrily."

Lion-O grinned. "We're spoiled with Snarf, that's for sure. We'll be up a creek when he retires." He turned toward Snarf. "Snarf, the Lord of the Thundercats personally requests the next piece."

"Snarf snarf, you know I'll never retire away from you, Lion-O, although if you start eating cake for breakfast every morning, that uniform's going to keep getting tighter on you. And contrary to what Cheetara said you said, I'm not shrinking it in the wash."

That inspired a warm round of laughter around the table, though it came most heartily from the twins, Bengali, and Snarfer. "I guess you'll be hitting the gym after breakfast," the white tiger said, still chuckling.

"You ought to go with him, snarf snarf," the old snarf quipped. "Rumor has it that you've been complaining about the legs of your uniform being tight."

"That's muscle!" Bengali protested.

"I didn't think working out your jaws built up your thighs," WilyKat said with a snicker.

"You two would know all about what running your mouths gets you," Panthro teased them.

Lynx-O and Snoelle joined the panther in a chortle. "Indeed," the eldest of the Thundercats agreed.

"And to think, Cheetara and Tygra are missing out on all this back on Third Earth." Snoelle smiled wistfully. "A shame they couldn't be here too." She turned to Snarf. "Speaking of which, Snarf, when I go off there next time, I'd like you to send me with one of these." The snow leopard finished the last of her piece and set her fork down.

"Want another?" asked Panthro.

Snoelle eyed the cake and then Panthro, smiling wryly. "I'd love it, but I don't want Snarf shrinking my uniforms in the wash, so I'll hold off."

"Yeah, besides, the next cake will be better, right?" WilyKit said.

"Her birthday cake?" Pumari asked. "Hey can I have another piece?"

Bengali shook his white mane a definitive no. "Not now, Pumari."

"That's right," Lion-O agreed. "If both your father and the Lord of the Thundercats have to resist, so do you."

"Aw." Pumari frowned.

"But she's a growing girl, Lion-O," WilyKit said "helpfully".

Chet finished the small piece of cake he had been given, although a good half of it remained stuck to the plate in a mess of gooey icing that also clung to the young cub's face and fingertips. "More?" he asked hopefully.

"No!" Snarf exclaimed, and quickly set about fussing over the boy's sticky face and fingers as he envisioned smears and fingerprints everywhere that he would undoubtedly be left cleaning up. "Snarf snarf, you kids have had enough." He looked at Lion-O and Bengali, and then added, "All you kids have had enough."

The only Thundercat older than Snarf, aside from Snoelle who only counted by chronological birth years rather than physical age, grinned. "What about your elder peers, Snarf?" Lynx-O said. "Or should I be a good example and show some restraint… hard as it is with how acute my senses are and how very delicious this is?"

"You're lucky Pumyra's up on watch duty, or she'd be giving you a blood sugar lecture," Bengali chided the lynx.

"I won't tell if you won't," Pumari said with a cheeky smile. "Especially if you let me have another piece!"

The twins each burst out laughing, and Bengali cast them a knowing look. "I think you've been hanging around a couple of bad influences, Pumari."

"Ah, you just don't like it when she gets the better of you!"

"And I think I'd better get this out of here before you all overrule old Snarf's good advice and Pumyra gives me what for on behalf of all of you!" Finished with Chet, Snarf hurriedly collected the cake platter and cutter.

"Don't you think you should save a piece for Pumyra, Snarf?" Lion-O asked. "I'll go ahead and take it up to her; I've got a couple of calls to make anyway."

"Suuuure you'll give it to her," Snarfer teased the Thundercat Lord.

Lion-O gasped with playful insult, while Snarf frowned and quickly cut another piece, which he placed squarely in Snarfer's hands. "Since you're such a wise guy, you can give it to her! And you had better not come here with some fish story about it falling or having an 'accident' on the way there, snarf snarf!"

Snarfer's whiskers twitched. "Would I do that, Unc?"

"As sure as you still call me by the name I always tell you not to!"

"I haven't called you 'Uncle Osbert' in at least a week!"

"You just did!" the older snarf exclaimed, exasperated.

Snarfer giggled again and got to his feet. "Yeah, but that was just an example. And now the timer's reset to," he glanced at a timepiece, "five seconds since I last called you—" Snarf's expression grew more distinctly not amused, and Snarfer finished with a wry grin, "—not Uncle Snarf!" He then bounded out of the room cheerfully with Pumyra's cake in hand.

Another round of laughter, that time mostly at the flustered look on Snarf's face, echoed around the table. Shortly afterward the remaining Thundercats got up, finished with their breakfast. "Thank you again for the cake, Snarf, and the rest of you," Snoelle said before heading toward the door.

Panthro caught up with her and fell in step beside her. "So how does it feel to be a part of this madhouse for a year?"

"Wonderful," Snoelle told him with a warm smile. "Given the circumstances I was brought back to, I couldn't have asked for a nicer home and those to call my family… and more."

That time it was the panther's turn to smile. "I'm glad you feel that way, because I want to talk to you about something that almost came up at breakfast."

"Oh?" She turned to him, curious.

"You know how WilyKit mentioned the next cake?"

"My birthday cake? Well I certainly won't complain about that, especially if Snarf is making it. That cocoa candyfruit one he makes is superb."

"Actually," Panthro said with a gleam in his amber eyes, "I was thinking more of a wedding cake."

The snow leopard's features lit up with excitement and affection. "Oh, Panthro!" She put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips. "Yes."

"I was hoping you'd say that," the panther replied with a grin after kissing her back. "And I'll even make sure he makes it a cocoa candyfruit one."

"No wonder I've fallen in love with you," she said, contented and happy. "Although I still want a birthday cake."

Chuckling and resisting the urge to make a remark akin to feeling like he was married already, he only responded with an equally affectionate, "Yes dear."

* * *

Slythe knocked loudly on the door to Ratar-O's office chambers for the second time. "He calls me here saying it's important, and then doesn't answer. What's hisssss problem today?" he muttered under his breath. In the year and some weeks since the Battle of the Swords, the former reptilian commander's life had returned to a rather boring day to day mundane affair. His job managing the grunt staff of Ratar-O's palace was routine drudgery, but it paid well enough, and he got a few perks out of the deal, so he stayed. The reptilians, even the arrogant Iguano, had been treating him better over the past months, although Slythe still would just as soon see his peer accidentally locked in the palace's deep freeze for a few weeks.

"Come in," Ratar-O finally called after Slythe gave a third, and more insistent, knock.

"You called for me?" Slythe greeted his liege, who was clad in immaculate gold-trimmed red and blue robes of state instead of his warrior's garb.

The Mutant Warrior King's whiskers twitched and his lips parted in a crafty smile. "Yes. How nice of you to be so prompt, Slythe. Have a seat." The reptilian sat down unceremoniously and eyed the rat with an expectant look. "Not much for conversation today, eh Slythe?" chortled Ratar-O. "Well this ought to cheer you up. I've been doing some thinking about your service to me here in the palace, and some talking with some of your reptilian kinsmen. Aside from Iguano, they've spoken fairly well of you."

"Have they?" _I wonder what they want_, Slythe thought suspiciously.

Ratar-O nodded. "Yes. And in light of that and how you've managed to keep your areas running like a well-oiled machine, I'm inclined to believe that perhaps circumstance had a bigger hand in your, ahem, issues on Third Earth and afterward than mere mismanagement and poor judgment. You do have talent, and while I like having clean bathrooms and few complaints about roaches and ill-prepared food amongst the court, I think you've earned more responsibility. Therefore I'm promoting you." He grinned and handed Slythe a gold-inlaid hand axe with a gleaming blade of the finest and sharpest metal, a ceremonial—but effective—weapon indicating the lofty station of a high captain in the royal guard. Only three held the position at any given time, so it was quite prestigious. "Pick the staff of your choice to move your belongings to the suite in the eastern spire, High Captain Slythe."

Slythe blinked, shocked. "High Captain? Thank you, mighty Ratar-O! I'll get the move underway immediately, yesss!" he said, and bowed to the rat sincerely before taking and examining his new weapon. A grin of unashamed delight lit up his features, but he still cast Ratar-O a curious glance. "I'm honored, but may I ask what happened to High Captain Burtakx? Those were his quarters, weren't they?"

"Dreadful accident," Ratar-O answered. "He was testing one of the defense systems at my base by the harbor, and the idiotic monkeys manning the switches didn't think to check the circuits. They probably went on a banana break," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Burtakx will live, but he lost a leg and his sight, so it'll be some time before he's up to any sort of duty again, if at all. I gave him early retirement provided he orders his assistant—now yours, actually—to deal with the simian simpletons appropriately."

"Oh yesss, I will make sure I do," said Slythe, pleased that finally, after so much time and humiliation, he was being given the respect he was worthy of as a once great Mutant commander.

Ratar-O settled back in his seat and folded his hands. "Excellent. You're dismissed, Slythe. I look forward to your report." Slythe nodded back to the rat obediently and turned for the door just in time to hear Ratar-O add, "And a fine dinner from my staff tonight, that I'm sure you'll see to personally before you appoint your replacement."

The dig at his kitchen status still made him bristle, but he was in too much of a good mood otherwise to let it get to him. Instead all he said before leaving was, "As you wish, King Ratar-O."


	3. Chapter 3

Lushara smiled as she saw RedEye already there and waiting at the restaurant they had chosen to meet up for dinner at. It was a bistro run by a middle-aged lunar couple that had a reputation for serving fine cuisine from all over, including a smattering of exotic Plundarrian and Thunderian fare as well as popular dishes originating from each of the Moons. The atmosphere was busy and it appealed to a wide clientele as it was not terribly expensive, and while much of the royal court would never bother with such a place, Lushara was not as stuffy as most and enjoyed a chance to get away from the same old scene every once in a while. She approached the other darkling and gave him a quick smooch. "Nice to see you."

"Likewise," RedEye replied. The two of them had been involved in an intimate relationship for some time now; they had only grown closer since the aftermath of the Battle of the Swords and spent a lot of time together. Issues such as marriage or even cohabitating had not really been discussed, but they enjoyed one another's company and that was just fine for the both of them as it stood. Each had the notion that things would progress eventually, but until that point they had not pushed the issue and kept such thoughts largely to themselves. That night, however, RedEye intended to change that.

They were seated shortly after Lushara arrived at a private booth in the back of the restaurant. It was crowded and busy, which gave them a nice wall for a private conversation amidst the general chatter and noise of the other patrons. After they ordered their drinks and meals, RedEye turned to her with a serious look and said in the blunt manner typical of him that there was something he wanted to talk to her about.

"Sure," Lushara said, curious as to what was on his mind. "What is it?"

"I've been offered a good position. Military security."

"Military? Really?" she said, arching an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't think you were interested in joining the 'rules and regs' side of things after so long as a free agent."

"It's a civilian contract," he explained. "Some time ago I asked Frostor to let me know if anything worthwhile came up that didn't involve uniforms or the chain of command."

Lushara gave a knowing nod; that sounded a lot more like the RedEye she knew. "I take it he did then?"

That time RedEye nodded a yes. "Working on security systems and design. Something that uses my skills and improvisation tricks from our time on Third Earth and out on the run in the galaxy. They like the idea of someone that can think outside the box." He smiled, and she did along with him.

"Good. It's really an underappreciated thing, especially with how things used to be on the Moons with us trying to rebuild from scraps after the Thundera explosion disasters. I think too many of us have forgotten what it was like ten years ago when we were just getting things back in order." She took a drink from her goblet. "And it sounds a lot better than that piecemeal tech stuff you've been doing here and there in the city. It's easy for you, but it's got to get boring fixing appliance computers and transport crafts."

"Yes," he agreed with a note of distaste in his voice.

"Congratulations then. I hope you like it. So where is the position? Which base? The one outside the city or over at the MoonTower?"

He fixed his gaze on her intently. "It's not here on the Third Moon. It's back on Noktoraek."

Lushara blinked in surprise. "On the dark moon?"

He nodded. "Full time. Nearly full military perks too, about the best a civilian position offers: officer level housing, a credit line for living expenses and work, a nice personal craft, and a fuel allowance."

"Wow," she said, exhaling a deep breath she did not realize she had even been holding until she spoke. She realized now why he wanted to talk to her about it. "Congratulations. I can see why you wouldn't want to pass that up."

"I don't plan to," he said, and then met her eyes. "I'm expected to give them a start date by the end of the week. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?"

The intensity in his red eyes seemed to double as he stared at her from across their plates. "I'd like you to come with me."

She supposed she should have expected him to say that, although suddenly the anxiousness she had felt at his initial announcement about the job shifted. Lushara realized that what she had felt was regret that he would be leaving to take a job far from where she was, and that perhaps he would not want to bother with maintaining a long-distance relationship. What he had just said, however, caught her even more off guard and made her feel far worse—because without even thinking about it too hard or long, she already knew the answer. Her life was not on Noktoraek, even though she had been born there. She had lived on Dasanalith since her twenties and through the trying times of the disaster days. The Third Moon was her home and those at the MoonTower—Frostor, Selene, Psiarik—were her family. She could not imagine up and leaving them, or her responsibilities in the court. Not for anything, not even love. A pang of regretful emotion churned in her at that realization. She did love RedEye, and that made it all the worse.

"RedEye," she said heavily, giving him a sincere but sad smile, "I'm glad you feel that way. You've really come to mean a lot to me in the time we've known each other and—"

He misinterpreted what she had started to say and smiled back at her. "You mean that much to me too, Lushara. Having you there will make it all the better. When we get there we can—"

"Whoa, hold on." She cut him off, swallowing hard as his obvious enthusiasm was making what she was about to say that much worse. "Hear me out. I don't want to hurt you but…" She paused for a moment, and as she saw the pleased look on his face shift to one of shock and realization and then distinct hurt, she wished that her darkling vision was not so sharp. "…but I can't move to the dark moon with you. Much as I love you, that's just not possible." The words hung in the air like a thick and choking fog. "I'm sorry," she added after a moment.

"Why not?" RedEye's words were curt and simple, but demanding, as he stared back at her in a way that was nearly unbearable.

"This is my home," she said simply. "The court is like my family, and I have responsibilities to them. I can't just leave, not on short notice. They mean too much to me."

"And you can't give them notice and move later?" RedEye challenged, eyeing her with a dubious look that now bordered on accusatory. "Do you think I wouldn't wait for you to tie up your loose ends if you need a few weeks? If you love me, wouldn't that mean you trusted me?"

Lushara tapped her spoon somewhat agitatedly as she responded. "Oh, that's not what I'm saying at all! I do trust you, you ought to know that." She sighed. "A few weeks, a month, it wouldn't make a difference. I'm needed here and I want to be here." She saw his frown etch deeper, and her expression mirrored it with one of her own. "I know it's important to you to go, so I'm not going to tell you not to… but on the same token, I'm not going to move either. I'm sorry. You've always had more wanderlust in you than I do." She chortled darkly. "It's one of those traits of yours that fascinated me, since I didn't share it myself. My adventure stories all come from here in the post-disaster era. Aside from when I chose to move here, I've only even traveled to the other moons a handful of times, and those were trips or court missions, not permanent moves."

RedEye straightened staunchly in his seat. "I see."

"I can tell by the look on your face that you think it's because I don't care about you enough, or something. Whatever you want to believe, that's not true," she said, and pushed back from her plate, her appetite now gone.

"Apparently my feelings don't factor in much to your plans."

The dig irritated her, and she snapped back. "I could say the same about you."

"Then it is what it is," RedEye said, looking at her now with a distinctly cold and distant tone. "A shame it didn't work out. I'd hoped otherwise."

"So did I." Lushara closed her eyes and finished her drink. "For what it's worth, I still wish you well. I'm sure it'll be a good move for you." She dug some money out of her belt pouch and left it on the table. "I'm not really hungry now. Call me if you want to talk," she said, and left. RedEye said nothing as she did. He only watched her leave and kept his eyes on the exit for several long moments after she departed, and then stabbed at the now cooled steak on his plate in disgust.

* * *

While one relationship was ending on the Third Moon of Plundarr, a new one was beginning a world away on New Thundera. WilyKat walked into the municipal building of New Thundera City and made his way to the census office. Though the local magistrates handled most of the legal matters pertaining to governing the city affairs, the Thundercats did keep records on the number of Thunderian refugees that had returned to New Thundera and what clans, if any, they were affiliated with. The records were updated a few times a year and that time had come again.

"Thundercat WilyKat," a leopard security sentry posted in the main entrance hall greeted him cordially. "Good to see you."

"Thank you," he replied politely to the spotted cat. "I'm here to pick up the census records. I heard they were ready?"

The sentry nodded. "The office should be open now. All the clerks were in late yesterday so I'm sure they've got what you need over there."

"Great." WilyKat nodded to the guard and headed down the hall. The census office was a large set of rooms on the south end of the building, down a spacious hallway lit mostly by the sunlight that poured in through high arched glass windows lining the corridor. The doors leading into the office were already open, so he stepped right in. "Hi," he called out, "I'm here for the records?"

A lanky elder puma man looked up from a desk and smiled at him. "Ah, WilyKat of the Thundercats. Good day! We were expecting one of you folks from the Cat's Lair to be over today. How are you doing?"

WilyKat smiled at the older cat. "Fine, thanks. How're you?"

"Oh, pretty good, busy as usual with this business. It took us a while to get the last couple of updates from some of the clan leaders; you know how it is. Some cats just love to wait until the last minute! Leonora should have your package ready for you in a few minutes." He turned and called out over his shoulder. "Leonora! The Thundercats are here for their data." A muffled response came from an adjoining room, followed by some shuffling, while the puma returned his attention to WilyKat. "So how are things over at the Lair? Going well I hope?"

"Pretty well, yeah. Nothing too exciting going on lately, though I guess that's a good thing."

"And how's Snarfer doing? We see him quite often in here on Thundercat and snarf business, though not for a few weeks now. I hope he's just busy and otherwise doing fine?"

Nodding, WilyKat answered, "Oh yeah, Snarfer's fine. He's been helping Torr over at the beacon tower a lot lately."

"Glad to hear it," the puma said, and stepped aside as the clerk from the other room came over. "Do tell him we said hello."

The other clerk, a pretty young lioness that wore her long fiery mane in a ponytail, set a thick envelope down on the counter in front of WilyKat. "Here you go." She smiled at him.

"Thanks," WilyKat said, picking it up. He looked over at the puma and answered him, "And I will."

A buzzer sounded in the background and the puma headed back over to his desk. "Good day, WilyKat," he finished distractedly as he bent to answer the call, leaving WilyKat with the other clerk.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked him politely.

"Nah, that'll be it, if this has got all the clan records."

"All the registered clan records and the miscellaneous registries from the city and neighboring districts," the lioness confirmed. "But if you have any questions, feel free to call us. Cabrean's only got a few more hours in today and he's out the rest of the week on vacation… lucky him," she said with a nod in the puma's direction, "but I'm in late tonight and here all week, and so are Derapin and Gorac. My name's Leonora, and you can ask for any of us."

WilyKat picked up the envelope and smiled at her, now noticing her attractive features and soft voice. "I'm sure I won't need to, but if they're all as pretty as you I might stop by again anyway." A friendly but sly smile crossed his lips as he spoke.

Leonora smiled back at him, clearly flattered. "Well thank you! That's high praise coming from one of the Thundercats… and one of the most eligible ones at that."

"Anytime." He grinned. "Truth is part of the Code of Thundera, so I'm obligated to tell it, after all."

She let out a soft giggle. "Of all the things I've heard about you and the Thundercats, it was never that you were such a flirt, WilyKat the Cunning."

"I have my moments," the male Thundercat twin told the lioness, still smiling. "Though sometimes when they say that, that's not necessarily what they mean."

"Well I'd mean it as a complement, so you don't need to worry about that." She leaned on the counter, tilting her head slightly as she looked him over. Although like most Thunderians she was familiar enough with their ruling noble Thundercats to recognize them at a distance and in uniform, she had never really encountered them in more than passing. Up close and in person, WilyKat was a handsome cat, with a well-toned athletic physique and eyes that sparkled with both warmth and a hint of mischief. Despite his high status he did not come across like one might expect a noble with such station to, and had far less arrogance about him than many clan leaders she had interacted with over the years. Face to face she could see that the tiger half of his lineage was stronger in his looks than the lion blood that comprised his other half, the side more prominent in his twin sister. The Thundercat twins were well known simply for that; they were the first mixed-race Thunderians to earn the titles of Thundercat in a few generations, and had done so at a remarkably young age. Neither the lion nor the tiger clans claimed them as one of their own as the identity of their parents was not known, only that they were orphans left in the care of the Thundercats as infants and raised as such. Still, their skills and wit were great enough that they made Thundercat history along with their full-blooded peers, and as such they were the pride of mixed-race Thunderians everywhere that had no clan of their own. While that particular bit did not apply to Leonora, for her family was one of noble lion lineage, a spiritualist lion clan called the Halerani, she was still glad that the mixed-race Thunderians had the same examples to aspire to in the ranks of the Thundercats that the pure-blood races did. Like WilyKat, she had not grown up in the stricter social class system of Old Thundera, having left the old doomed Thundera around the time of the Exodus. As a result, many of their generation tended to view Thunderians as one unified people, rather than the more old-fashioned view of them as a conglomeration of clans in strict noble lines and classes working together.

WilyKat, meanwhile, found himself staring into Leonora's pretty copper-colored eyes, admiring her looks in a similar manner as she did his. Despite his earlier flirtatiousness, he was not quite as outgoing as his sister or some of the other Thundercats, and his duties did not generally leave him much time for dating. It was not that he did not have opportunities, for young Thunderian ladies often showed interest in him, as did parents and other family members of single Thunderian women looking to set them up with a hot Thundercat catch. The spontaneity of his meeting with Leonora was in part what drew him to her, that they just seemed to click in a way that felt natural to him. And of course, the fact that she was a cute lioness wearing a boldly-colored dress that accented her nice figure did not hurt either. "I'm glad," he responded to her earlier remark after a moment.

Leonora straightened, although her gaze lingered on him. "Well, I ought to get back to work before Gorac comes over and thinks there's something wrong. He's a good guy, but he likes to keep cracking the whip over us to keep the machine going strong," she said wryly. "It was nice meeting you."

"If he's too tough, maybe I should have Tygra come by to teach you a few tricks to get even," WilyKat said, and then added almost as an aside, and with slight smile, "Or maybe I could."

"I'd like that." She picked up a pen and smiled at him in a way that made his heart skip a beat.

"Do you mean Option A or Option B?"

That time it was Leonora who smiled back with a hint of nervousness—pleasant nervousness, but nervousness just the same. "Option B."

Twirling the envelope in his fingers, WilyKat grinned back at her. "You can count on it," he said as he left. The census data was the last thing on his mind all the way back to the Cat's Lair.

* * *

Ratar-O looked up from his steaming golden bowl of stew with an irritated expression on his face when he saw who it was that dared to interrupt his lunch. It was Chrotoman. "What do you want?" he demanded of the advisor.

"There was an incident in the capitol today that you need to be aware of, Sire." The smaller rat's whiskers twitched as he spoke.

"What is it?" Ratar-O slurped as he took another spoonful of his stew.

Chrotoman approached the side of the table. "The preparations for the feast to commemorate the second anniversary of the Battle of the Swords, the reclaiming of the Sword of Plundarr for Mutant-kind, and the Unification were set back today."

That time the Mutant Warrior King looked up. "Set back how?"

"The office hosting the organization committee was ransacked this afternoon during their midday closing. They came back from lunch to find the place had been broken into, some items stolen, and several canisters of stink and warp gas set off in the place."

Ratar-O set his spoon down and glowered at Chrotoman. "You interrupted my dinner to pass on the festival committee's whining about vandalism?" His voice rose several notches in aggravation. "Don't we have city sentries to deal with this sort of nonsense?"

"It was the graffiti that was left there that I thought commanded your attention," the slightly built advisor remarked coolly. "It wasn't the usual scrawling of obscenities that your average delinquent jackal or simian adolescent trying to prove something would leave. This was, apparently, an organized attack."

"An organized attack of stink bombs and graffiti?" Ratar-O repeated incredulously. "With each breath you seem to be wasting more of my valuable dinner time."

Chrotoman gestured to one of the empty seats at the king's table. "May I?"

"No, not unless you can prove to me that you have a point." The grouchy rat slurped another spoonful of his stew.

"Very well," Chrotoman said, peering down evenly at his liege. "The graffiti included an acronym that our intelligence linked to an aggressive fringe group intent on 'preserving the purity and superiority of Mutant-kind' as their leaders have asserted: M.O.P.R.S.—'Mutants of Plundarr Rule Supreme.'"

"Let me get this straight. A group that self-identifies as 'M.O.P.R.S.' is bent out of shape that we're commemorating the return of the Sword of Plundarr to us and the peace agreement?" Chrotoman nodded and Ratar-O went on. "So these 'mopers' are whining and laying stink bombs to show their displeasure, and it's a crime mandating the attention of the ruling Mutant Warrior King why?"

"The M.O.P.R.S. are a more prominent and dangerous group than you're giving them credit for, Sire," the advisor pointed out gently. "This isn't the first time they've made their dislike of your policies of fair trade and cooperation with the moon-dwellers and Thunderians clear. Last year they staged a protest in the simian capitol and—"

"And I'm sure the monkey guard threw a banana peel into their works before they got out a second stink bomb, otherwise I'd have heard more about it before now!" Ratar-O snapped. "I don't have the time or the patience to be bothered by a bunch of sniveling bitches moaning about policies they don't like. I hear that every day from clan leaders and diplomats. Whatever they think, I'm the Mutant Warrior King and they're a bunch of nobodies. When they command the Sword of Plundarr or an army they can come and bother me with their complaints. Until then, tell the accountants to lighten up on the purse strings, pay a few guardsmen some overtime, and deal with it." He picked up his goblet and stared harshly at his advisor. "That's all I have to say about it, unless you have something more dire to report them doing than spraying graffiti and laying stink bombs."

Chrotoman's fangs pressed down against his lip in a hesitant motion. "No," he said after a moment. "Nothing more than that at this time, except general grumblings of discontent. I was merely concerned about their sway among the populace, and the sort of message we ought to send on it."

"What sway? How many? This is nothing but a lot of whining from malcontents who have nothing better to do with their time than crash a party and break into an office. Arrest these fools for disturbing the peace and be done with it."

"That's all?"

"Are there enough of these rebellious-minded idiots with spray cans and stink gas to cause more of a problem than our well-equipped military can handle?" Ratar-O challenged.

"No. As I said before, they're a fringe group," admitted the advisor.

"Then quit wasting my time with it. Take the necessary funds out of the treasury to increase security around the ceremony committee office and ensure that it goes as planned. The best attention we can give these 'mopers' is to ignore them like a petulant child." He waved to the other rat in a way that made it clear that the conversation was over, and returned his attention to the stew that was now a tad too cool for his liking thanks to the interruption.

Chrotoman bowed. "Yes Sire," he said with a conceding sigh, and left Ratar-O to finish his meal. The Mutant Warrior King took a hearty swig of his ale and muttered something along the lines of it not being strong enough, and ordered another, as well as a fresh bowl of stew.

* * *

Panthro and Snoelle snuggled up together in the bed that once belonged to the panther in Third Earth's Cat's Lair, enjoying the solitude, privacy, and lack of distraction on the otherwise peaceful world that had been home to the Thundercats between the destruction of the old Thundera and the reformation of the New Thundera. They had planned their stints of Third Earth duty to match up for the three week overlap so that they would not be apart for the full six weeks at one shot. Snoelle was technically in charge of the Tower of Omens, but Third Earth was very quiet with Mumm-Ra gone from the world for so many years, so they alternated their nights in each fortress so that it was not empty for too long with their equipment set on automatic alert to let them know if there was something at the other base that needed attention.

The couple had slept in after a passionate night before that kept them up late enjoying one another's company in every sense of the word. They had now been together as a couple for some time and were formally engaged with a wedding to take place the following month. They had talked about the possibility of having cubs shortly afterward and already did not concern themselves with preventing a conception, although the fact that they had done so for a few of the snow leopard's natural cycles had her wondering if they would have difficulty when they began to actively try to conceive. Much like it was with Lunatacs and also Mutants, the fertility rate in mixed-race Thunderian parents was significantly lower than with two parents of the same race. It was not impossibly low, perhaps ten to twenty percent more difficult, but still an added challenge, especially given that Snoelle was not entirely sure if her long imprisonment in the magical ice had affected her fertility in any way. Her cycles seemed normal enough, but given that she had never borne a cub before, she had no idea if that mattered, or if there were other issues that she was not aware of not having sought to conceive one prior to now.

Panthro had taken to his new spousal role quite naturally and even though he had been single for many years, he did not find any of the changes unpleasant aside from a few bemusing moments that arose from a female's presence in his living quarters. Things like cosmetic tubes mixed amongst the odds and ends, usually gadgets, on his nightstand or "not being able to find a dangblasted towel" after she used the whole three he kept in the washroom after a shower. Such things inspired little more than a passing chortle or remark, however, and it was a welcome trade off for the new dimension of happiness that finding love had added to his life. The notion of someday becoming a father was a tad more daunting, but the idea of having a cub of his own was exciting to him. WilyKit, WilyKat, and Lion-O had all been wonderful children to be around when they were young, and at the time he loved them like they were his own younger siblings or nephews and niece. In more recent years he also enjoyed his uncle-like role in Pumari and Chet's lives. Having his own cub would be a new challenge, he knew, but it was one he was up to and looked forward to tackling, especially with Snoelle at his side. Then, of course, there was the fun of trying for that cub. That was most definitely not anything he would complain about.

Such lusty matters were on his mind that morning as he woke up and smoothed his hands over Snoelle's soft curves, caressing the outside of her hip and thigh with both affection and playfulness. She was only half-asleep, and when she felt his touch she turned back toward him with a sly look, savoring the feel of his fingers against her furred skin. "Good morning to you too," she said with a purr in her voice. "I see you're up and energetic."

"But not so sure I'm ready to get out of bed," he teased back, and gave her rump a squeeze. "How about you?"

"Mmmm, not just yet, although that depends." She rolled over and fell naturally alongside his body, playing her fingers across the contours of his muscular blue chest.

Panthro eyed her mischievously. "On what?"

"On whether you can convince me that we should sleep in." She leaned forward and planted a light smooch on his lips.

That was all the encouragement that Panthro needed. "I don't know about sleeping, but I think could convince you to stay in bed." He pulled her closer to him with one strong arm and kissed her, nipping lightly at her lower lip and sending a delightful tremor of passion through her.

Snoelle's purr deepened, and she wriggled against him in a provocative way that served to excite them both. "Well, since I don't hear any alarms, perhaps checking in on Third Earth can wait just a little longer."

Moving from her lips to the silken fur of her neck, Panthro kissed his way downward and dipped a caressing hand between her thighs, noting how pleasantly she sighed as he touched her in the most intimate way. "That's what I hoped you'd say," he murmured between kisses, and then followed through on his intent with actions instead of words.

* * *

"What did you say?" an incredulous Chilla repeated to the lunar servant in front of her.

"There's a guest here to see you, Lady Chilla. He says he came all the way from Lixuvekh to see you," the attendant said. "Shall I send him in, or tell him you're busy?"

Chilla's frown deepened. She did not know of anyone from the ice moon that she could imagine would come to see her. Aside from her honeymoon, she had not set foot on Lixuvekh since her return to the Moons of Plundarr, and she was one of the least social of the Lunatacs from Skytomb. Although she had taken to her prestigious new role as supplementary royalty in the MoonTower quite naturally and she enjoyed the respect and perks that her station commanded, she did not schmooze like Alluro, Selene, or even Luna—though why anyone would want to schmooze with Luna was beyond her anyway. Even that day she was spending largely in solitude, alone in her quarters before the servant had come in to see her. Alluro was elsewhere, and their daughter Erissa, just a bit into her first year, was with her hired nanny. Chilla did not spend as much time with Erissa as some new mothers insisted on, for while she loved her daughter as fiercely as a mother polar bear would her cub, unlike the mother she had never known and who she still held in contempt, she was still a free-spirited ice warrior at heart. Domestic tasks like changing diapers and the lack of sleep that came with caring for an infant had no appeal to her when there was servant help to take care of such drudgery, and it was not as though a child that young did much more than coo, cry, eat, sleep, make messes, and occasionally do something cute anyway. Chilla figured there was plenty of time for her to spend with the baby when she was alert and not fussy, which was not the case that afternoon.

"Lady Chilla?" the servant repeated, awaiting an answer.

"Who is it?"

"An ice man like yourself, an older fellow with a thick second moon accent. When he first came in I thought he might be someone the Governor General knew, given his age. But he asked for you. He said his name was Glacelius."

When she heard the name, Chilla's blood froze like the ice that came from her mouth. "It can't be…" she muttered. The attendant gave her a quizzical look, while Chilla's fingers clenched and twitched with unspent energy. "He should be dead by now. He must be ancient!"

An uncertain frown flickered across the lunar's features. "What should I tell him? Do you wish to see him or not?"

Chilla's glare narrowed at the servant in a dangerous way that made her instinctively step back a couple of paces, although to her relief she did not ice her and instead brushed past her toward the door. "I couldn't care less if I never see him." Her voice was heavy with a contemptuous frost as she spoke.

Confused by her reaction, the servant said hesitantly, "Lady Chilla…"

"He's my father," she spat with disgust, an answer that cleared up why she had such a volatile reaction to the news. She glared out the door and down the hallway, although she did not see anyone. "What does he want?"

The servant caught up to and kept an anxious pace with Chilla as they proceeded down the hall. "He didn't say, other than he came to see you."

"I didn't even think he could still be alive. I guess even the astral wants nothing to do with him."

"We could send him away, if you want—"

"No," Chilla cut the lunar woman off, her disgust that time clearly aimed at the man they spoke of rather than the messenger who had been previously worried that she would be iced in his stead. "I won't let him get the satisfaction of thinking I'm afraid of him."

The servant nodded and gestured to a room at the end of the hall. "He's in the atrium then. I'll leave you to him." She then hurried off before Chilla could argue or she could be caught in the icy crossfire.

Chilla barely noticed her leaving and instead barged into the room. When she entered she saw a hunched over and aged blue form that she recognized immediately, even though she had not seen him for many years. His face was more scarred and wrinkled, and his body was weaker and more fragile in his elderly state than it had once been, but that did not lend Chilla's thoughts toward any hint of pity or even superiority, only disdain and disgust. "Why are you here?" she demanded without bothering to greet him.

"Chilla, my little Chilla!" The old icewalker rose to his feet and smiled back at her with unshaken confidence despite the less than welcoming reception. "How long it's been…"

"I'm not your 'little Chilla' and I haven't been for a long time! Why are you here?" she repeated.

Glacelius straightened as best he could and looked his estranged daughter in the eye. "Is it so surprising that a man would seek out his only daughter in his old age, when he hears not only that she's still alive, but done amazing things with her life since she was last a part of his?"

Unmoved, Chilla's green eyes burned with anger instead of familial warmth. "Spare me your nauseating paternal concern. We both know why you're here."

A knowing smile crossed the old icewalker's lips. "You always were a sharp-tongued one, Chilla, with a mind like a steel trap and a temper like an angry snow badger to boot. But I can see that psi you married's rubbed off on you. You talk like one now, or like one of these Third Mooners at any rate. Big words, good grammar… how self-important." He chuckled. "Your mother talked like that too. Not surprising, I suppose, since she was from the Third Moon. I hear that they think you're the daughter of the sorceress Chillandra." Glacelius laughed again. "Viene always acted big, but I never saw a sign that she had those sorts of tricks up her sleeve… a few others, perhaps, but that's neither here nor there."

"I don't care who Mother was or what she called herself—Viene, Chillandra, or just that woman who gave birth to me and left me in a dump of a town with you," Chilla hissed. "And I don't think much more of you, either! We both know why you're here. Not for your 'dear' daughter, for your meal-ticket, right?" She spat a patch of ice at his feet. "You have nerve coming here."

"High words from one who's got royal immunity only because she let herself get knocked up by the king's illegitimate father," Glacelius scoffed back at her, unfazed. "Seems he has a habit of that, eh? But then, so did your mother I suppose, that's how I wound up with you. I never thought that fling with Viene would go that way when I took up with her either, though she at least could've had the decency to take you along for the ride if she was going to leave me, the bitch." He kicked at the ice spot at his feet in disgust. "Neither she or you ever appreciated me. My brother always said I was too soft on you, but your grandmother thought you might be worth something someday. Funny, she was right." He sneered at his daughter, who now stood taller than he due to his advanced age, unlike the last time they had seen one another, when he had been in his prime and she a teenager. "Though when I saw your face on the news years after you left home as a part of the Lunatacs of Plundarr gang—hah, did we have a laugh about that! My little Chilla made something of herself indeed—the Moons' most wanted list."

Chilla folded her arms and glowered at him. "Jealousy doesn't become you, 'Daddy'."

"Just as sarcastic as you were as a teenager." Glacelius shook his head in bemusement. "Going to teach your little half-breed to be so snippy? You'd better be careful. With half psi blood she won't be able to spit ice beyond snot cubes without rigorous training." He raised an eyebrow and smiled sarcastically. "I hope she inherited at least a bit of foresight or mind-reading from Lord Alluro to keep herself out of the kind of trouble you got into."

"Don't mention Erissa again," Chilla warned, looming over her father's aged figure. "If you've come here thinking you're going to play 'Grandpa' to my child, you've got another thing coming. I haven't needed you since I was fifteen, and I certainly don't now."

Glacelius' eyes lit with amusement. "In this grand setting? I'd hope not, although I admit I'm surprised you're still this stubborn and arrogant even after being run off the Moons, imprisoned by a _human_ mercenary, and humiliated over and over again by Thunderians on a primitive planet." He made a tsk-tsking noise. "I'd thought those experiences might've humbled you a bit, but I'm afraid you're too much like me." The smug look in his eyes as he regarded her was, much to her disgust, one of pride. "I've always pushed the limit too. Pity your mother never appreciated that in us. Maybe that's why she left. We were too much for her to handle."

"Like I said before, I don't know and don't care about her."

Glacelius sat down in a chair. "Or me, right?"

"Incredible. A thousand psi empaths couldn't have picked that up."

Chilla's father let out a hearty laugh. "And you would know all about the Fourth Moon types, wouldn't you? Your lover's given you such insight into their ways, I suppose. Really, Chilla, of all the men I'd imagine you might take up with, a psi? Wasn't there a graviton with you on Third Earth? I'd have thought a physical man like that would be a better match if you didn't have an ice man around. You always had fight and fire in you, girl. Or do you like the ones you can push around… when you can be sure he's not controlling that oh-so-free spirit of yours, anyway?"

Chilla fought to contain the rage and contempt that her father so deftly needled out of her. "You don't know anything about Alluro, my relationship with him, or me for that matter."

"Just what I've seen in the media," Glacelius said with a shrug. "Of course, if you'd like to prove me wrong, you can amuse your old father by setting him straight on what's become of you. Perhaps over a nice meal in the grand hall. I never had the clout to get into the old palace before it was destroyed, but I hear Queen Selene keeps a fine court, and with you and our esteemed Governor General on it, I'm sure some _exquisite_ Lixuvekh fare gets served." A snide grin flashed across his face. "See, I know those big words too, little girl!"

"You're lucky I haven't thrown you out, old man, or anything worse!" Her words were heavy with threat and a mist of ice crystals hung on her breath like daggers ready to carry them out.

"Chilla?" Alluro's voice interrupted them, and both she and Glacelius turned toward the doorway where the psi stood. "I thought I heard you in here." He came in and eyed the old icewalker curiously. "Who's your friend?"

"He's no friend," Chilla snarled contemptuously, while Glacelius bowed cordially to Alluro and introduced himself.

"No, I'm family, hence the fond treatment." He smiled at the psi in a way that would almost seem friendly if not for the aggressive glint in his eyes as he sized him up. "I'm Glacelius. Nice to meet you, son-in-law."

Alluro blinked, and looked from Glacelius to Chilla. "Your father?"

"Yes." The tone of Chilla's voice made it clear that she would have found a visit from a Mutant door-to-door salesman more preferable than her father's company.

"I didn't know you had family left on the Moons," the surprised Alluro remarked, and in turn eyed Glacelius with an evaluating look. He knew little about Chilla's father, only what he had gleaned from what references she made to him on the rare occasion that the subject came up, but the harsh-looking old man seemed to fit the image of what he might have imagined him to be like, albeit shorter and more frail given his age. "I take it neither did you." The remark was addressed to Chilla rather than Glacelius.

Glacelius spoke before Chilla could answer. "So this is the infamous Lord Alluro." He smirked. "And I mean 'infamous' as a compliment, of course."

Alluro's brow rose with smug arrogance. "How else would there be to take it?"

"Indeed. Infamy means being remembered, and both of you will certainly go down in the history books." Glacelius looked at Chilla with a sense of pride that riled her in the way he reveled in it, as if he had anything to do with it. "My little girl certainly has made quite the impression on the Moons… on the system, the galaxy, even the Thundercats and CONTROL from what I hear. And my granddaughter's a blood member of the royal family! Never in my craziest dreams would I have imagined that."

Chilla frowned at him. "Not surprising, considering your dreams never seemed to stretch that far."

The old icewalker straightened and glowered at his daughter. "Wrong. I always had my dreams, even though Viene and you took most of them away years ago. By the time you left, it was too late for me to do too much about them. But I've still got my creature comforts, and at my age, there's not too much more to ask for." He narrowed his eyes. "Except for perhaps a bit of consideration from my sweet little snowflake, but it seems she's too much like her mother for that, even after all these years."

"You have consideration," the seething Chilla assured him. "What else do you think is keeping me from throwing you out of the MoonTower with my bare hands?"

"Consideration for Queen Selene's lovely rugs?" Glacelius retorted sarcastically. "Or are these more the psi tastes from the king or Lord Alluro? Psis can be so feminine it's hard to tell." Alluro bristled at the insult, but Chilla beat him to the punch and Glacelius beat her to the door. "Don't worry, I won't force my prim and proper 'royal' daughter to sully her little lunar in-law's expensively decorated halls on my account. I'll leave." He ran his fingers back through his short white hair as he paused in the doorway. "It was short, but I'm glad I saw you, Chilla. I'm sure Viene'd be proud. Perhaps she's smiling down at you this very moment from a nicer spot than the gutter the whore likely died in after she left us. At least you got enough sense from me to do better than that." He laughed darkly. "I'll die proud of you, dear daughter, even more so that you still hate me with the same ferocity you did when I last saw you."

He bowed again, that time in an exaggeration of the snooty royal court gesture. "I hope you'll at least tell little Erissa that her grandfather once asked about her, and that he hopes she does the ice blood half of her proud. Tootles!" His gravely voice hit a high note in its sneering mockery, and he waggled his fingers along with it for effect as he spoke. He then turned and left as abruptly as he had showed up.

Chilla and Alluro watched him go, and once he was gone, Alluro watched Chilla in silence for a moment as he gauged her feelings about what had just transpired. "Interesting man, your father," he remarked after a moment.

She turned and fixed the residual glare for Glacelius onto him. "That's one word for it."

"What did he want?"

"Money, probably." She folded her arms crossly. "Like I told Frostor back when he was going on about how Chillandra must be my mother, if anyone in my father's family had ties to anyone of importance, they'd hit them up for it and try to hone in on it for themselves. I guess I was right," she scoffed, a thin and icy mist coming from her nostrils as she did. "Funny how he had no urge to come and find me until word that I wound up in royal digs reached him."

Alluro put his arm around Chilla's shoulders. "Not to defend the old man, but one could hardly blame him for not wanting to traipse out to Third Earth or waste his money going to Bragg's circus train," he said with a roll of his eyes. "But yes, I'd say that his motives are to say the least, suspect." He gave her a curious look. "He mentioned Erissa. Did he see her?"

"No, and he won't if I have anything to say about it. If she asks, her grandparents are all dead."

Alluro nodded. "By the time she's old enough to ask, it probably won't be a lie anyway. He makes Luna look spry."

"It's almost enough to make you wonder if bitchiness is the secret to vitality," Chilla quipped, and then stalked over to one of the couches in disgust. "Alive or not, it was clear to me years ago that I was better off without my family. I'd be a worse mother than my own if I subjected Erissa to them."

Although he knew it was dangerous ground to tread on with her, Alluro's curiosity got the better of him and he pushed the subject lightly. "Funny, the subject of your mother—I assume that's who the 'Viene' he mentioned was—seems to be the only one you and he are inclined to agree on."

"Even so, neither's worth talking about." The note of finality in her response made it clear that she would not tolerate his line of questioning any further unless he wanted to risk an icing. In light of that, he shifted the subject to one slightly more amenable that had also been raised by Chilla's father's visit.

"He did bring up one thing that I've wondered about."

"What's that?"

"Erissa," Alluro said, pausing a moment before he elaborated. "He remarked on her half-breed heritage. It seems he doesn't expect much of her." He frowned in dismay. "Distasteful as I find the notion of agreeing with someone like him, I've wondered the same about her. Half-breeds have a difficult time making a name for themselves with the meager skills they're born with. With parents like us, one should expect great things from her."

"Training will overcome a lot of half-breed weaknesses, that and focus," Chilla asserted. "I'm sure my father would get perverse validation from me spawning a weak child when he did 'so well' with me as he likes to think, but he won't get that satisfaction. If he wishes weakness on her, may she not only prove him wrong, but spit an ice loogie right on his grave when she's old enough to do it."

The fire in Chilla's voice left Alluro holding his tongue for the time being on his own conflicting thoughts on the subject of their daughter and her likely levels of natural psi and icewalker powers. Instead all he did was smile and say, "Ice loogies? That's a talent that would do her 'uncle' TugMug proud if I ever heard one." He chortled. "Though if she does develop it, I'd double her allowance to see her hock one at Luna."

The visualization inspired Chilla to smirk along with him. "I'll be sure and teach her."

Alluro grinned and squeezed her shoulder with affection. "And an excellent teacher you will be."

* * *

Monkian disembarked from his ship and stood outside of the shadow of Castle Plundarr on Third Earth, now dilapidated from over sixteen years of neglect and disuse. "Never thought I'd see this place again," the simian Mutant muttered quietly, shaking his head. In truth, Monkian had never expected to leave Plundarr again, let alone return to the off-track and primitive world that had been his home for many years. However, fate had taken an odd turn and Monkian's nephew Cynolus had suffered an injury in battle from a poisoned weapon that was not healing properly. It was not fatal, but it was painful and uncomfortable. Cynolus had remembered his uncle's stories of magic on Third Earth and wondered if somewhere in their primitive lore they might have a treatment that would ease it where Plundarrian medicine failed, and asked if he might return to the world to see if there was anything there that could ease his pain. The material reward he offered was too good to pass up, and even if it had not been, Cynolus was kin and his favor had granted Monkian a measure of status, so he would not have risked losing it anyhow, even for a wild goose chase mission to a world he would just as soon as never see again.

He decided first to look through what remained of Vultureman's lab in Castle Plundarr. There were still potions and notes in there, and while Monkian was not a scientist like Vultureman was, he figured he could still tell what was what. He also carried a sample of the poison with him and a picture of the plant it was derived from on Plundarr for reference. He knew it was a long shot that Vultureman would have anything that resembled either right in his old lab, but stranger things had happened, so he figured it was as good a place to start as any. Besides, if that was a bust, he could always find and intimidate a Wollo or Balkan healer into giving him information about them.

Looking over the abandoned lab's shelves and surfaces, he first went to a bench that had a section full of old vials, all dusty and grimy with age. He picked up the closest and uncorked it, and a rancid stench wafted out and filled his nostrils. With a wince he closed it back up and held it up to the light—not anything powered on, of course, as that had all long since stopped working, but the sunlight that came through the partially broken window nearby. The writing on the vial was faded and he had forgotten that Vultureman's scrawl was difficult to read even when it was freshly inked. Monkian sighed as he realized that he had no clue what the substance was at all; it could have been anything from a fuel additive to the foul concoction he once brewed to relieve Slythe's constipation. He set it down and thought for a moment, and then proceeded to pack all of the old vials into the protective carrier he had brought in with him. "Hoo, screw it, I'll just bring it all back and let them sort through it," he said, and moved on to the bookshelf to see if there was anything there that would be any more helpful.

Most of what was there was notebooks rather than any actual books, notes that Vultureman had written there pertaining to his various inventions and vehicles. He did not see anything that resembled medical remedies or anything about plants or poisons from what he could tell, and he tossed the books back on the shelf in disgust. "Figures I probably burned all that fuel coming here for nothing." He shook his head. Castle Plundarr, or what was left of it, had nothing left of interest. A damp gust of wind from a hole in the wall above drove home the point that the fortress was home to ghosts of the past and nothing more.

"Guess there's one other place I could try," he mused, and his lips curled in disgust as he thought about it. Where screwball avian Mutant science had failed, ancient Third Earth magic might yet have an answer. Mumm-Ra was long gone from the world, but as far as he knew, the ruins of the onyx pyramid still existed. Perhaps somewhere in there was a totem or relic with healing powers. Mumm-Ra had been evil, but the evil power that had made him strong and prolonged his unnatural life surely had healing powers to it that could remedy the painful effects of poison.

Monkian was about to get back into his ship when an arrow flew out of the nearby trees and struck the metal hull of the ship right in front of his nose, bouncing off with a clang. "Great," Monkian muttered under his breath. He had not been on Third Earth in years, and he was barely back for the equivalent of a pit stop before the locals were literally up in arms. He supposed the Thundercats never passed along the peace memo to the warrior maidens, and figured if they wanted to shoot at him, he could play that game too, with laser blasters. He simultaneously reached for the gun on his belt and picked up the arrow. He intended to snap it with his free hand in a show of contempt when he noticed something he had not seen or thought about in years—two bright green feathers tied to the end of it.

"Zalea?" he whispered, surprised.

There was a swish of wind, and a warrior maiden in a deerskin loincloth with her light brown hair tied into a ponytail swung out from the high branches of a nearby grove of trees. She strode toward him with her bow drawn and guarded, but more curious than aggressive. "I _thought_ that was you… impossible as I thought that was."

The shocked Monkian lowered his pistol a bit and held out the arrow with a strange look at the one warrior maiden he had not been at odds with. Their friendship—if one could call it that—had been a secret he kept from the other Mutants aside from him passing along tidbits of information he had gotten from interactions with her. He had met Zalea one on one after hostilities had already been established between the Mutants and warrior maidens back in their early days on Third Earth. The two had encountered one another high in the trees near Castle Plundarr and had gotten into a scuffle that knocked them both out of them and into a trap another tribe had set for large beasts. The only way either could escape was for them to trust and help one another get free, and survival instinct ranked higher than grudges, so they had. The experience had left them with a lasting mutual respect, since the personal grudges of their people did not apply to each other as individuals. Hence they did not attack one another and when they met alone, their interactions were friendly, and at times, even beneficial.

"You're still around?" Monkian said, noting that she looked older, but no less a warrior. Living in the elements was not an easy lifestyle, but it kept the warrior maidens in top shape, and only the lines in her tanned skin truly showed her age.

Zalea smiled at him. "I could've said the same thing about you. The word was that all of you Mutants were imprisoned years ago, and your part of Third Earth has been quiet ever since. Barely a soul goes near your Castle Plundarr anymore. Even wanderers and nomads avoid that place. Only animal life ever takes shelter there."

"It did seem like nobody'd been there since we left."

"It's considered a cursed place. The memory of the evil deeds of your people still frightens most of Third Earth." Zalea replaced her bow on her back now that it was clear that there was no threat from her old friend.

Monkian did the same, sheathing his gun back in its holster. "Hoo, but you're here."

"I've never been as superstitious as some, but our shamaness warns all our young ones against exploring here. I'm still one of the only scouts that volunteer for this territory. Personally, I like the solitude and the hunting's always been good here." She looked at him curiously, fixing her wide brown eyes on him. "So what did happen to you? Were the rumors true? A bounty hunter captured all of your people and the Lunatacs of DarkSide?"

A dark glower crossed Monkian's face at the mention of what had happened with Captain Bragg, something he would just as soon forget, just as he still wished he had never heard Marvelous Merna's name. "Unfortunately."

Zalea offered a sympathetic look. "I'm glad that you weren't harmed, at least—or that you've healed from it. And apparently escaped or been set free?"

"Escaped," he said, and used her mention of healing as a good excuse to change the subject. "And speaking of healing, hoo, that's actually why I'm here. I need a poison remedy that we don't have on Plundarr."

"Plundarr," Zalea repeated with surprise. "Really? What kind of poison?"

"My uncle was wounded by a weapon coated in it. It doesn't kill him, hoo, but it won't heal and causes him a lot of pain. He's an important man, but even our best doctors don't have a remedy for it. We wondered if there might be a relic or a potion on Third Earth that can help him. We saw all sorts of things like that in our time here."

"That's incredible."

"Why?"

"I—I guess it's just hard to imagine that people like yours that can travel through space are still troubled by such things as poisons." Zalea then shook her head at her own naïveté as she realized how she tended not to think how things might be different, or the same, in worlds beyond her borders. "Do you know what kind of poison it is? From an animal? A plant?"

Monkian fished the vial holding the poison sample out of the carrier. "This is the stuff. Be careful, it burns to the touch. You need glass to hold it, or something like it." He shook the liquid, a cloudy amber fluid the consistency of tree sap. "It comes from a plant that grows on our world called the Savragia bush. It grows in thorny thickets in warm areas with a mix of shade and sun, and the poison comes out of the thorns. I don't know if you have it or anything like it on Third Earth though."

Zalea took the vial and uncapped it, sniffing gingerly at it and watching how it clung to the glass. "Looks oily, and it smells a bit like the rotted leaves the Jivwaki bug likes to eat. I wonder if the plant is the same type. Can you draw me a picture of the plant or its leaves?"

Chortling under his breath, Monkian said, "I'm no artist, but I do have a picture of it." He opened up a compartment on the carrier and pulled out a sheet that had a glossy image of the Savragia plant on it and handed it to her. He smiled somewhat amusedly at the way Zalea's eyes widened upon looking at the image. Such simple technology to him was still a wonder to primitives such as the warrior maidens.

"Your people have such amazing magic to catch something just like a reflection or a scrying image that you can carry with you." She looked at it from several angles and then said after a moment, "I don't know of a plant that looks like this, so it's probably something native only to your world. But the Jivwaki bug lives in a swamp with thorny bushes with blackened vines like the stems of this plant, so perhaps they're in the same family. I know the plants are inedible to us and cause an awful itch and burn if they cut the skin. We do have a salve that we make from fire mushroom flesh and sapphire weed that helps it, especially the burning pain." She looked back up at Monkian. "Does his wound burn? Is that the sort of pain he feels with it?"

"Yes. He says it burns, sometimes so much that he can hardly walk. It oozes, hoo, and just scabs over and re-opens, never heals."

"I'll get you some of the salve. It takes time to make, so I won't be able to get it to you until tomorrow. Meet me here then." She adjusted her quiver and took a step backwards.

"See you then." Zalea gave Monkian a wave and then darted back off into the trees, swiftly and graceful as she had arrived. Monkian looked down at the green-feathered arrow, still in his hands, and shook his head with bemusement. "Still keeping watch, even after all this time…" He stashed it into his carrier, and went back into Castle Plundarr. For one night, the lonely old Mutant fortress would have an occupant once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Lion-O strode through the marketplace of New Thundera City in a fine mood. He did not have much on his mind; things were relatively calm as far as state and clan matters went, and he had not been in the market district of the city in some time. Back on the old Thundera, the nobles and especially the Lord did not travel to such places without an entourage, and they usually had their attendants purchase things for them, but that was not the lifestyle in which Lion-O had been raised and he enjoyed maintaining closeness with his people. Lion-O was thought of as a kind and benevolent Lord, like many before him, but also as an approachable one and a true friend to even the most common Thunderian. While outright snobbery had always been frowned upon, on Old Thundera there had still been an aura of inapproachability to the Lord of the Thundercats, and few ever spoke to him as though he was just another lion.

He stopped by a confectioner's stand that had all manner of sweets and treats. "Snarf sure would love this, even if he wouldn't let the cubs have any," he chortled as he eyed a particularly scrumptious looking batch of nutty candies. A few moments later he decided that the temptation was too good to pass up, and asked the merchant for a pound of them.

"Lord Lion-O!" the plump jaguar behind the counter exclaimed. "This is an honor! Would you like to try a sample?"

"I'm sure they're delicious, but you can twist my arm," Lion-O replied with a grin, while the man handed him one of the candies. He also retrieved a plate from behind the cart with other samples on it.

"Feel free to try some of these if you like."

Lion-O gladly helped himself and smiled back at the merchant like an unsupervised cub given free license to raid the candy box. "Oh, these are great! I'll take a bag of some of these back, too. I'm sure they'll be a hit."

The merchant grinned. "Wonderful! It's a ringing endorsement indeed to have the approval of the Lord of the Thundercats!" He measured out the candies and handed the sack of them to Lion-O. "Will there be anything else? Alynxia would never forgive me if I didn't recommend a fizzy candyfruit ale from her shop across the way to wash it all down. Candies always make me thirsty, and hers is the best in the city. She brews it all herself, from her great grandmother's recipe."

"Thanks for the recommendation. I'll check it out." Lion-O handed the merchant his money and set off across the way. He had not even made it across the street when an insistent tug on his arm caught him by surprise. He turned and saw an elderly white tigress looking up at him with a sense of urgency. "Madam, are you all right?"

"Lord Lion-O," she said, her ice blue eyes staring right into his. "I am fine, but I come with a warning from the stars." Her voice softened, although it retained an edge, and she clutched at his arm a touch more desperately.

"Warning? What do you mean?" Lion-O replied, and gently put his hand over the tigress' bony fingers to calm her and separate her from him. It was not that he recoiled from her touch so much as his intuition made him feel as though he should be on edge.

"Please listen to me, my Lord. I study the star maps of the ancients and our ancestors, and a troubling alignment is beginning to come into place." She looked at him in a way that made him feel as though she was trying to stare into the very depths of his soul. "We tigers are not the only ones who have seen it; jaguar mystics have also taken note of it, as have lynxes and lion shamans. We've talked and agreed that for the good of New Thundera and the Thundercats that you should be warned."

Lion-O frowned. "Warned about what?"

"The stars converge into a portal of darkness. In a little over a year's time it will grow in power as it did once before, and consume one of your own." The tigress tightened her fingers around Lion-O's arm. "Protect them with the Eye of Thundera. Do not let your brother or sister Thundercat wander astray."

The words were ominous, but Lion-O did not feel any sense of foreboding as he listened to her. The Sword of Omens, on his hip as usual, also remained inert. Smiling kindly at her, he patted her hand. "You have my word as Lord of the Thundercats that I and the Eye of Thundera always watch our people and all of New Thundera. We will do everything in our power to keep them from harm."

The tigress was not reassured. "Of course, my Lord. But be careful… evil finds many paths to work its insidious influences. Do not be caught off guard in these times of peace. Heed my words, Lord Lion-O. The darkness will fall. Do not let it consume the Thundercats—as it once almost did." Her grip tightened to the point that her claws grazed against his flesh, and as he started she gasped and released him, stepping back. "I'm sorry, my Lord. Forgive my exuberance. But I fear for the Thundercats. Many of us do. What the stars foretell can not be avoided, only directed."

He held up his hand. "It's all right, but please, don't worry," he said in his best attempt to quell her fears. "Mumm-Ra was banished four years ago, but we learned then that even after a long time, evil such as his can't be destroyed and can always come back. We'll never be as complacent as we were before the Battle of the Swords that he's gone forever. If he somehow finds a way to return from wherever the Mighty Sword banished him, we'll fight him. He will not destroy the Thundercats. You have my oath on that."

"Of course you will. All of New Thundera has faith in you, Lord Lion-O." She smiled at him, although it was wan and weary. "But remember… there is evil other than that of Mumm-Ra in the universe. Evil forces more ancient and ambiguous that derive their power from sources other than ancient spirits. Be on your guard, kind Lord of New Thundera." She bowed in an almost reverent manner and then skittered off into the crowd, leaving him stunned.

"That was strange," he murmured to himself, and then began walking again, trying to shake off the old woman's ominous words. He glanced up at the clear blue sky and then around him in the bustling but calm market square and tried to imagine something as terrible as the tigress spoke of coming to pass. _Even if Mumm-Ra did return, we wouldn't let him destroy New Thundera. We know we have the power to stop him. We even have new allies we gained from our last battle with him to call on for aid if we need it._ The sound of a bird chirping from a nearby rooftop chipped away at the sense of unease that his encounter with the tigress had stirred. He reached absently into the candy bag and popped one into his mouth. Its chewy sweet texture and taste were like a fresh burst of cheer that made her dire warning seem all the more like the fears of a superstitious old cat rather than something to be truly afraid of. One hand drifted down to the Sword of Omens in the claw shield, still asleep and at peace.

"Things will be fine," Lion-O said aloud as he made his way back to his vehicle. "Just fine."

* * *

It was several hours past dawn when Monkian awoke. He had slept on his old bed in Castle Plundarr, which was still sort of functional, in that it was intact. What bedding had been on it was so tattered and moldy that it turned even his less than delicate Mutant nose, and he wound up tearing everything off it and sleeping on the slab with a blanket from his ship. As it turned out, he had been more tired than he thought and slept quite a while. He was surprised to see the sun high in the sky—a sight more easily noticed through Castle Plundarr's shattered windows and drafty holes than it had once been—and quickly hopped up hoping that he could wrap up his business on Third Earth once and for all.

When he went outside, he saw a small package on the slab just inside one of the stone arches that framed Castle Plundarr's main entrance. It was a crudely wrapped bundle with a wooden arrow that had two green feathers tied to it through the top. So Zalea had already come and gone, he mused. As he bent down and picked it up, Monkian felt a small and unexpected stab of disappointment. He supposed he would not see the warrior woman again, as he had no plans to ever return to Third Earth. He already had not prior to that trip, but especially after staying in the ruin of the once impressive Castle Plundarr, the point that there was nothing for a Mutant there on Third Earth had been driven home in spades. He had gotten quite used to such luxuries as properly functioning plumbing and hot meals made from something other than locally hunted and foraged slop in his recent years at his nephew's estate, and he definitely had no burning desire to take up the wild and uncertain lifestyle of pillaging Third Earth once again.

He unwrapped the bundle Zalea had left and found that it contained what looked like two prepared poultices tightly wrapped in an animal skin, and a crudely fashioned bottle made from some sort of treated dried fruit shell that had a carved lid that fastened with a screwing mechanism. He opened it and saw more of a salve, presumably the same that had been prepared, only more concentrated in a waxy form. The scent it gave off was potent enough to clear his sinuses in one whiff. He quickly re-capped it and tied the satchel back up, figuring that between that and the few other odds and ends he had salvaged from Vultureman's old lab that there was enough to make the trek there worthwhile. Casting one final look around the area that had once been his home, he committed the sight to memory and boarded his ship without looking back. A few minutes later the engines roared to life and Monkian was deep in space, headed back home to Plundarr.

Monkian's ship had just cleared the border of the system when his stomach growled and he realized that he had not bothered to look for anything to eat back on Third Earth. Anything that might have been in Castle Plundarr he would not have touched with a ten-foot spear anyhow given the condition of the fortress itself and how long it had been abandoned, but it occurred to him that it might have been wise to at least scout around the trees for fresh fruits or nuts. He let out an irritated grumble and resigned himself to the space rations on the ship; standard survival fare and a bit of his nephew's wife's home-smoked jerky. The meat she used to make it was a secret that she refused to divulge to anyone, but its spicy-sweet flavor reminded him of snarf chops. Of course, since the Battle of the Swords, Ratar-O had officially made hunting and purchase of snarfs for slavery or food against the law as a courtesy to their Thunderian allies, but that did not mean that certain Mutants did not look the other way or try too hard to stop illegal importation of it. After all, what was done on worlds other than Plundarr was beyond the Mutant Warrior King's control.

The hungry simian left the ship on auto pilot and headed to the back chamber of the ship to retrieve the rations when he found something he had not expected—Zalea, sound asleep. The warrior maiden's head rested upon a pile of wire and tarps that he had pulled out of one of the compartments while looking for something on the way there that he had not bothered to put back in, since in its state of disarray it would need to be unfolded and re-wrapped to fit in the cramped storage bin. "Hoo, Zalea? What are you doing here?" he demanded, nudging her with his foot.

Zalea blinked and stirred, and then was on her feet in a flash. "I fell asleep!" she exclaimed, clearly as taken by surprise as Monkian was. "I, well… I came by Castle Plundarr to leave you your salve, but you were sleeping soundly so I didn't want to rouse you," she explained. "And I was curious about your ship, and I didn't think you'd mind if I took a look around. I didn't touch much of anything."

"And you fell asleep here?" the incredulous Mutant asked.

"Not on purpose." She folded her arms, her tone taking a mildly defensive edge. "I figured I'd wait and see if you turned up, and while I was waiting, I got thirsty and had a bit to drink." She put her hand on a water skin attached to her quiver. "I hadn't eaten enough, I guess, and Mikia must've made it stronger than usual on top of it."

Monkian eyed her dubiously. "Hoo, you got drunk?"

"Sleepy, thank you very much!"

The simian could not help but chortle. "I get that way after I've had a few flasks full of whiskey too."

Zalea frowned, although she was not quite sure what whiskey was, she got the gist of his meaning from the context and his bemused, if not condescending, tone. "Well if you'd rather I not be in your ship, all you had to do was say so. I see you found what I left you, so I'll leave you with it." She started for the door.

Monkian's eyes widened in alarm and in an agile leap he jumped in front of the warrior woman and blocked her passage. "Hoo! Don't open that! You'll kill us both."

His tone caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't know you were in here when I took off. We're already in space," he told her, and gave her a funny look as the implications of it sank in for them both. "You're on your way back to Plundarr with me."

"Plundarr?" Zalea repeated, her normally confident voice now little more than a frightened whisper. "I—I'm in space?"

"Yes. We're not even in the same system as Third Earth anymore." He pointed to the doorway that led to the bridge area, where there were windows so she could see for herself. "Look there if you don't believe me."

Zalea ran through the arch and gasped as she saw what looked to her like the clearest night sky she had ever seen surrounding them from top to bottom with no ground anywhere. "It's night—but in the day," she breathed in amazement. "And all around!"

"That's what it looks like in space. Day and night like with the sun and light only happen on a planet. In space it always looks like this. You see space when it's night because the sun isn't affecting the atmosphere."

Pursing her lips and trembling with apprehension, Zalea looked from him back to the incredible sight beyond the window. "I don't really understand what you mean. Do you mean the air when you say atmosphere? And there's no air out there?"

"No. It's a vacuum." When she looked back at him blankly, he let out a grunt of frustration. Explaining technical things to primitives was tedious; ironically it was similar to the sentiment Vultureman often had in the past when trying to explain his inventions to Monkian himself. "It means that you need a ship to travel in it because you can't breathe."

"Oh, like swimming!" Zalea said with a hint of understanding. "Like if you breathe in the water, you drown."

Monkian nodded, relieved that she comprehended that much. "Kind of like that."

"It's incredible. I don't think any of my people have ever seen something like this," she said looking through the window pane once more. "Even Queen Willa never went with the Thundercats into space. Wait until I tell them about it!"

"You'll be waiting a long time," Monkian said flatly. "I told you, we're on our way to Plundarr, and I never intended to come back to Third Earth."

Alarmed, Zalea whirled around. "What? You can't just… just take me and leave me there!"

"Hoo, yes I can," Monkian countered. "You stowed away on my ship, and even if I wanted to turn around and take you back, I don't have the fuel to turn around, take you home, and then get back to Plundarr myself."

"I didn't 'stow away'! I was curious and fell asleep!"

"Either way, you wound up on my ship after I took off. You might as well get comfortable and enjoy your ride to Plundarr." He sat back down in the pilot's seat to consider what exactly to do with Zalea when he got to his home world. Humans were considered little better than animals and if permitted to dwell amongst Mutants, it was only as slaves. He knew Zalea well enough to know how she would take to being treated as such. She would end up killed for impudence in less than a month, if she even made it to an auction block. He supposed he could go through the effort of keeping her, but he did not want to have a permanent slave to baby-sit, especially one he had an awkward sort of friendship with. Zalea was too stubborn to accept such a change in the dynamic of their relationship and he was certain she would do something stupid like try and run off to prove something. He groaned under his breath. What a mess. He did not like the complication of actually being fond of slave fodder.

Zalea, meanwhile, paced like a trapped animal. "If you don't have enough fuel now, can't you just get more when you get back and take me then?"

Monkian cast her a glower of impatience for her ignorance. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

He rose to his feet and punched the back of one of the other chairs in a burst of temper. "For one, this isn't my personal ship. Ships like this that can go as far as Plundarr to Third Earth aren't cheap or easy to make and belong to more than one Mutant. It belongs to my nephew and our clan. I can use it but not just whenever I want to without explaining and justifying it. And explaining why a human stowaway is worth the fuel cost to get back to Third Earth isn't going to be easy. Maybe if your herb medicine works I can convince him, hoo, but more likely he'll just want to keep you there on the estate for your other tricks and the novelty of it."

Zalea's lips turned in confusion, and before she could ask, Monkian said bluntly, "Humans are a slave race to Mutants, in case you didn't, hoo, notice. If I didn't already know you, I'd be planning to sell you at the auction block as soon as we got there."

"After I helped you, you'd enslave me?" Zalea yelled angrily at him. "You have nerve, Mutant! I thought we were friends—"

That time Monkian slammed both of his fists into the back of the chair, both denting the metal and bruising his knuckles in his anger. "As much as a Mutant could be 'friends' with a human, but Plundarr isn't Third Earth! You hardly ever left your woods and you don't know anything about my world. It'll be hard enough to keep you from getting yourself killed, and believe me, hoo, if you weren't a 'friend' I wouldn't bother!" He grabbed her roughly and stared into her eyes. She squealed and tried to kick him, but he held her fast despite her struggles. "You'd better can that stubbornness and attitude if you want to survive when we get there. I'll call you my slave for now, and as long as you don't act up I can keep you safe maybe long enough to figure out a way to send you back. But if you act like a bad slave and I don't discipline you, not only will the other Mutants make it harder on me for acting soft to a human, but they'll do what they realize I won't."

Zalea continued to struggle. "Don't threaten me, Monkian!"

Fed up, he elbowed her sharply in the gut to knock the wind out of her, and circled one burly arm around her waist and another around her neck, choking her and putting her in a position that made any aggressive move on her part an unwise risk if she did not want her neck broken. "Is this what you want? To be beaten like trash? To be raped, bound up, tortured, or tossed into a cell or a pit to fight animals for sport? Because that's what a Mutant will do to a human slave that fights them. There are no free humans on Plundarr. One that says she is will be captured and sold into slavery by the first Mutant that gets to her, that is if he doesn't keep her for himself." He then let go and thrust her away roughly, glowering at her as she stumbled back against the wall. "And I'm telling you that as your 'friend'."

Despite her wounded pride, Zalea heard the ring of truth in Monkian's words and stared back of him. "What about hiding? Can't I do that?"

"Someone will find you. You can't hide forever, especially if you want to eat and sleep." It was then that he realized he had forgotten to eat, which was what he had gone into the back of the ship for when he had found Zalea. "Play along and I'll do what I can to keep you safe… and try to get you home before too long." He sighed, disgusted at himself for being so soft. Slaves were a lot easier to handle when one did not already know and like them first.

* * *

Queen Selene had a bright smile on her face when Luna joined her for tea that afternoon. "What has you so happy today?" Luna asked as she and Amok took their places.

She patted her belly, swollen with the child and heir to the Plundarrian Moons that she carried. The unborn baby was the second attempt by the royal couple to conceive. The first had been lost in miscarriage in the first few months and had left her ill for a time afterward. Had the political situation not been as tenuous as it was, the physicians would have advised that they not try again, but she was determined to ensure the stability of the throne of the Moons and had insisted. That pregnancy had gone better, and she was due nearly any day. "Little Silvian's been kicking up a storm today," she told Luna. "Altheus thinks I should deliver him in a few days. He told me that this morning."

Due to all of the testing that had been done, they already knew that the child she carried was male and had already named him after her fallen brother. Luna eyed her with concern. "Did he schedule a surgery yet?"

Selene nodded. Another thing that was general knowledge amongst the court was that the queen did not intend to risk complications from a natural delivery. While lunar-psi crosses had less incompatibility issues than hybrid births like Chilla's child Erissa, the size of the hybrid fetus several weeks pre-term was already the size of a mature lunar fetus. It was almost a given that trying to bear the child without surgical intervention would kill them both, and they had not wanted the risk of premature delivery complications for the infant by trying to have him earlier. "Two more days, unless the labor pains start. But the only pain I'm in is what the boy's doing to my insides." She sighed. "Can your liver bruise, do you think? Or your lungs?"

"At least you know he's a fighter like your brother was," Luna pointed out. The former leader of the Lunatacs of Plundarr had taken to Selene rather like a mother hen, which was odd considering Luna herself had never had children and if one had asked her, would have said she never wanted any. Some might have argued that Luna's children had been the Skytomb group that she had led much like a matriarch of a rather dysfunctional family, but she would have staunchly denied that. Certainly if she had ever had children, they would not have been so unruly, misbehaved, and arrogant as the likes of Alluro, Chilla, TugMug, and RedEye. Amok was the only one she might have wanted to claim at all, and to her he was more of a combination of pet and brother rather than child.

"Oh yes, I'm sure of that. But one couldn't expect less from a child who'll one day rule the Moons." Selene sipped at her tea and winced. "Oooh. Right in the… well, I don't know what organ it was, but I'm sure it's important."

Luna dropped a sugar cube into her tea while Amok helped himself to several plain sugar cubes to munch on. "It's a shame you can't get his father to be half that energetic. He seems to have inherited Alluro's lazy side."

With a chortle Selene replied, "Cut him a little slack, Aunt Luna. He's been busy the last few days. Frostor dragged him to Noktoraek and back yesterday for some state affairs. Normally I would've gone, but obviously I'm in no shape to travel." She looked at her midsection again. "I think I'd take up two seats. Well, maybe just one if I sat in a graviton sized seat."

"Speaking of gravitons, what's this I hear about TugMug of all Lunatacs getting married?"

"Alluro and Chilla didn't tell you about that?"

"Not specifically. I overheard it, but I didn't get the whole story." Actually Luna had been on her way down the hall when she heard Alluro and Chilla snickering about something, and she had paused to listen rather than simply ask to save herself the trouble of interacting with them, just in case part of it was gossip that they might not repeat to her.

"Oh. Well there's not much to it. Apparently TugMug has been seeing this woman, another graviton that lives over on Tukabir, and they really clicked. Given what a character he is, I can only imagine what she must be like." She smirked. "Anyhow, they decided to wed and rather than bother with invitations and a formal affair like we tend to do over here on Dasanalith, they just up and did it out of the blue. Their reception was a spontaneous party at one of their local places with the friends that happened to be there at the time. I hear the food was good, though, but when isn't it over there?" Her smirk broadened to a grin. "No wonder I've put on so much weight with this baby. Would you believe I had this insatiable craving for authentic First Moon twice-baked pork pastries? I had some ordered from this excellent graviton baker in town and I ate almost the whole bag. Psiarik had one and a half and got ill, but I polished off the rest in less than half an hour." She shook her head.

Luna looked from Selene's face to her belly and back to her face. "Small wonder you aren't the size of a brute eating like that."

Selene's mouth turned slightly at the remark, although it was quickly replaced with a wince when she felt yet another kick and a searing stab of pain that took her breath away. Luna eyed her with concern, but before she could say anything it happened again, and that time Selene cried out. "Something's wrong," she gasped.

"Wrong? How? Maybe he just rammed his heel into your spleen that time. He is half psi, after all, and contrary to what they like to believe they're not nearly as graceful as they think."

Selene doubled over, or at least made the motion like she was doing so, since her size did not quite allow for it. "Get Altheus, Aunt Luna. This isn't… it's not right." She looked at Luna with urgency. "Now."

Amok was on his feet and scrambling to the door before Luna could do more than squawk for him to get her. They overheard Amok shouting loudly in one-word sentences consisting of "healer", "doctor", and "now" to the guards. In a few moments several of Selene's attendants rushed in, followed shortly thereafter by Altheus and Psiarik. The psi healer did not need to speak with Selene to realize the sort of pain she was in, and as soon as he touched her he could sense exactly what was happening.

"We need to get her into surgery, and quickly." No more time was wasted, and before all the steam could dissipate from the teacups, the room was emptied while the word was spread that the Moons' new heir was about to be born.

* * *

Ratar-O stood alone in the decorated chamber that held the pride of Mutant-kind, the mighty Sword of Plundarr, eyeing the sleeping weapon with much on his mind. These days he no longer carried it on his day to day business. He had returned to wearing his Rat's Eyes in his belt as they had other powers, and a part of him had come to feel that it was unwise to use the ancient sword for anything that did not specifically call for its use. That was a relatively recent change in the Mutant Warrior King's behavior, one that had come about after he had received a disconcerting visit from one of the avian clan mystics, an elder called Falconius.

"I see you carry the mighty Sword of Plundarr," the speckled bird had remarked after greeting him while he sat upon his throne, before even fully straightening from his bow. "All of Plundarr knows, and beyond. I do not question the judgment of our Mutant Warrior King, but I am concerned… do you not fear at all how others covet the Sword of Plundarr's power?"

"What do I have to fear?" Ratar-O sneered back at the old bird. His words would be considered offensive by many Mutants, but Ratar-O had a rightly earned reputation for patience in the more recent years of his rule, and he chalked the avian's impertinent words up to his age and social ignorance rather than intentional rudeness. "Am I not the Mutant Warrior King? Does the Sword not belong to me by birth right and respond to my blood above all others? Only a fool would even consider trying to steal it from me."

"Indeed," Falconius agreed with a slow nod, his eyes peering intently at him from across his beak. "But in your wisdom, King Ratar-O, surely you realize that fools are a constant of the universe and outnumber the wise? Even a people as advanced as we Mutants can't claim that we're free of that evolutionary curse."

The rat let out a hearty belly laugh. "True enough, Falconius. I can't argue that. Fools may be about three out of five here on Plundarr, which is better than the nine of ten on other worlds, or ninety-nine of one hundred on even more primitive ones, but we certainly can't deny we have our share of them." He looked down at the bird with his whiskers twitching curiously. "So is that why you've come here? Have you had some vision about the Sword of Plundarr?"

Falconius straightened and adjusted his feathery beaded headdress as he regarded his king. The coppery ceremonial makeup that lined his raptor-like eyes glittered in the golden light of the throne room, and commanded the attention of Ratar-O without challenging his authority. "The sword specifically? No. But there are unsettling things astir, Sire."

"What sort of things?"

"The stars align in a pattern to open a gateway to evil," Falconius said, and Ratar-O's lips curled into a silent groan. Prophecies and mystic mumbo-jumbo were things that he took with boulder-sized grains of salt. He trusted what he could verify, and while he was not foolish enough to deny that there was truth in ancient lore, he was also not superstitious enough to buy into it blindly and let it govern his rational judgment. Falconius could tell instantly that Ratar-O was not nearly as concerned as he felt he should be, and prepared to argue his point further. "It is not coming into convergence yet, but it will in a year's time. Plundarr is not at its focus, but it is tied to it."

Ratar-O eyed the avian evenly. "Tied to it, but not at its focus? What is that supposed to mean? Are we this evil force's stepping stone or something? What, do we stop and give it Thundrillium for its ship while it goes on to bother someone else?"

Chortling, Falconius replied, "Perhaps not so literally, but it's not a bad analogy." He cleared his throat with a cawing noise. "The stars give only vague warnings, but when we meditate on it at the temple we all see the same things—visions of the Sword of Plundarr, and its sister swords… significantly, coming into its strongest peak right around the anniversary of their convergence five years prior."

That time Ratar-O could not contain his groan and keep it quiet. "I've heard some kind of nonsense like this almost every year since the blasted Battle of the Swords. I'm fully aware that a contingent of Mutant 'mopers' still isn't pleased that we no longer war with the Thunderians and the moon-dwellers. Fortunately, the majority of Mutant-kind is intelligent enough to see progress for what it is and the value of keeping our alliance with them in its peaceful state. I realize that some zealot will probably pull off some stunt to show his disapproval of my rule, but like the ones who protested last year, they'll find out soon enough that arguing with their king gets them nothing but a dirty cell and a steady diet of kitchen dregs." He sighed. "And you're talking a year away. We're coming up on the fourth anniversary of the Battle of the Swords, and you've already got your feathers in an uproar over what'll happen on the fifth?" He tapped a brown finger on the side of his throne irritably. "Don't waste my time with this nonsensical fretting."

"The swords are _all_ tied to it, Mighty Ratar-O. I can say that without doubt. I would never expect a wise rat like yourself to take the words of a mystic at face value, but as the saying goes, forewarned is forearmed. Keep the Sword of Plundarr close and guarded. It is a target. In order to keep it at its peak power, it must be revered as the holy object it is, secluded and sanctified, not sullied by ignorant and foolish eyes and wills."

The frown on Ratar-O's face etched deeper for a moment, but he did not argue with Falconius further. "I'll keep it in mind. Thank you for your time, Falconius," he said with a note of finality that made it clear he no longer wished to be disturbed.

"You're most welcome, Mighty Ratar-O," the avian replied, and bowed to his liege again before leaving him to his solitude on the throne.

Though he never gave an official explanation to anyone as to why, that was the last day that Ratar-O, Mutant Warrior King, carried the Sword of Plundarr outside of ceremony or battle.

* * *

Back on the Third Moon of Plundarr, a large crowd of prominent citizens, royal court members, advisors, and military staff were all gathered in the MoonTower's decorated courtyard for the festive ceremony naming Selene and Psiarik's child, Prince Silvian II, the heir to the throne. The boy had reached one year of age, marking the time that traditionally on the Moons indicated that a child was strong enough to survive and would continue to thrive. Infant mortality plagued all races of all species across the universe, and even advanced ones such as Lunatacs were no exception. In times past, reaching one's first birthday was an indication that he or she had the strength to make it through one of the most vulnerable times in life, and therefore could be reasonably expected to survive onward. There was another confirmation ceremony that would take place around the age of reaching adulthood, strengthening the claim on the throne, but even the designation ceremony performed at one year was enough to solidify the child's place in the royal succession in the eyes of most Lunatacs.

Despite the alarm that had surrounded young Silvian's birth, the surgery to deliver him had gone smoothly enough, and the complications of pain that Selene had felt were due to an unnatural increase in pressure on one of her vital organs given the baby's size. Because the pains had alerted her early, she suffered no ill effects once the baby was delivered and the internal bruising was treated. Silvian II himself was a healthy child and grew quickly. He looked more lunar than psi, aside from having his father's gray hair and blue markings around the eyes. His skin tone and facial features were very similar to that of his mother, and given measurements taken at birth he was not expected to be exceptionally tall, unless one went by purely lunar race standards. Certainly he would be a very short man on the psi charts.

The ceremony was performed by a prominent lunar priest, the same that had married Selene and Psiarik years ago, and who had done the royal confirmation ceremonies on Selene and her late brother when they came of age after the disasters. He was one of the few surviving from the same order of clerics that had performed the confirmation rites on all of the royalty, including her and Silvian when they had turned one year old.

After the ceremony was over, a festive celebration was held in the courtyard and the adjoining ballroom, and the gathering became slightly less formal. Many important figures were there, both personal and professional, and even RedEye had returned from his new home on Noktoraek to attend. TugMug and his wife Gravitina had not, but they did send a fine gift basket that required one brute or three strong lunars to carry it into the boy's nursery suite. The card had indicated well wishes and said that it contained the best of what Tukabir had to offer, and Selene had commented—off the record of course—that it was more memorable than the formal gift sent by the First Moon's governor. TugMug's basket had a child's sippy stein with an assortment of homemade First Moon juices, brews, and treats that were popular among toddlers of Tukabir. Also in the basket were numerous toys that would delight any little child, all of high quality and handmade by first-rate graviton craftsmen. Selene's favorite was the Slug-Bug, an adorable stuffed animal version of a squat creature native to Tukabir. It squeaked and grumbled depending on how it was handled, and Silvian took a liking to it immediately—even if it was to bop it with a blunt painted toy version of the MoonSaber that he had to make Slug-Bug repeat itself.

Selene was enjoying a moment or two of quiet between socializing with the well-wishers when a graviton she did not recognize came up to her. The stout man had longish hair that was colored green, blue, and purple in an odd mix reminiscent of swirled paint, styled in a high wave held fast by gel so that it did not hang down. He wore a loose-fitting robe decorated with religious symbols specific to the Tukabir culture, and his right cheek was painted with a black jagged line symbol that had an asterisk-like point two thirds of the way down. Hanging around his neck on a silvery chain was larger and more elaborate rendition of the symbol, carved in the same crystal that Alluro used in his psyche club orbs. "Queen Selene," he greeted as he approached, bowing as much as his rotund form would allow. "I'm Hud-Bah of Tukabir, high priest and scientist of the First Moon's northern regions. It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness, and may I extend congratulations on the birth and first year of such a robust young prince. I'm sure as the stars that he'll grow to be a fine ruler and strong young man."

Smiling back at him, Selene replied with a reciprocal bow, "Thank you, Priest Hud-Bah. It's an honor and a privilege to have you and your order represented here today. I hope you've enjoyed your stay on the Third Moon?"

"Oh yes! I got recommendations on the best places to see and stay from your old friend TugMug. It's been a few years since I've been able to make it over here, but I knew I could count on him to point me to a good time!" Small wrinkles formed around the side of his eyes and plump cheeks as he laughed. "And I always knew you to be a woman of taste, serving Eclipse Stout. Excellent choice!"

"Well, Riala wouldn't stand for me stocking anything else," she said wryly, referring to the graviton nanny that tended to both Silvian and Erissa.

"Then clearly you're on the right track with raising the next generation, your majesty." Hud-Bah winked at her, and then looked around briefly as if to ensure their conversation would remain private before adopting a more serious tone. "If you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you about something important, for your ears only."

A quizzical look crossed Selene's features. "For my ears only?"

"Er, well yours and whoever you see fit to fill in on it at your discretion, of course. Hud-Bah would never question the judgment of our illustrious queen."

"Relax," Selene said pleasantly. "I don't offend that easily. Speak your mind."

Hud-Bah nodded with relief. Many lunars were far prissier about such things than their queen. "All right. I'm not aware of anyone else that's approached you about this matter, so I apologize if the psi seers or someone else has beaten me to the punch. Our order keeps our speculation largely to ourselves. In fact, you're the first that isn't a graviton priest that this has been discussed with at all, and fittingly so."

"What are you talking about?" Selene suddenly felt as though she was not going to like what he had to say.

"This is an auspicious occasion, and these are much better times than the Moons have known in many years, and certainly since the Thundera explosion disasters. All over the Moons, and I can vouch personally for the First, our people have made incredible progress rebuilding and re-forging what we've lost. Since the Battle of the Swords that's gone even more smoothly, with no more interference from Mutants or Thunderians at home or on our outposts. All in all, times are good. Unfortunately, they will not last."

Selene blinked, taken aback by the priest's words. "What? Why would you think that?"

Hud-Bah smiled kindly at her, although it was not one of reassurance, but concern. "We gravitons are people that value our science and technology, as are all Lunatacs of course, but we're especially well-versed in the physical laws of the universe. It's that knowledge that allows us to thrive as we do and manipulate the gravitational forces with such skill. Gravitational forces, however, are all over the universe and work in many ways. Even distant stars can affect them. That's why we have so many prominent astronomers and astrologers amongst our scientists and priests. And as such, many of them have been tracking a troubling alignment coming into formation that'll take its effect in just about a year's time."

A bit of color drained from Selene's cheeks. She was not as superstitious as some, but after enduring the Battle of the Swords she placed far more stock in ancient prophecy and lore than she once had, and the note of conviction in Hud-Bah's tone made it clear that he believed in what he was saying. "What kind of alignment?" she asked.

"A portal, or rather, a pathway for negative forces to gain a foothold. It's impossible to say what sort of forces these might be, but the alignment makes the environment a ripe breeding ground for all sorts of negativity. Uncontrolled violence, anger, greed, jealousy, lust—during this time it'll be all the easier to succumb to the desire to do these things. Now of course, there is always free will, but it's better to be warned so that will can be directed. The Queen of the Moons, with the knowledge that such a time is coming to pass, will be able to mitigate it. Policies and programs to distract and encourage the more positive behaviors amongst the people could stem the kind of chaos that might otherwise arise. Heighten security, and be on guard from assassins at all times. That's prudent anytime, of course, but especially now." The graviton put his hands on her arms and stared hard into her eyes. "I have no proof or evidence to show you, but many of us feel that this is particularly significant for the royal household, given the timeframe when the alignment reaches its apex and will remain the strongest."

Selene was unable to look away from the graviton's worried eyes. "When?" Her voice was just barely above a whisper.

"The apex is two days after the fifth anniversary of the Battle of the Swords, but it's strongest in the twenty six days before and after that. You must be very vigilant then."

"The fifth anniversary of the Battle of the Swords," she repeated, still stunned. "Ironic, that this force you mention would hit around a time of peace."

"You should use that to your advantage," advised Hud-Bah. "Reinforcing the alliance with the Mutants and Thunderians can only help when others act in ways to destroy all you've restored. We may not know who or why yet, but it's early, and perhaps with this in mind you can be aware of suspicious behavior before it can harm you. We cannot shake the feeling that it's going to affect the Moons strongly. One of our astrologers noted something particularly disturbing in his calculations. The Master of Lightning collides with the natal position of Thundera relative to the capitol during the apex period. That could mean many things, but not a one of them is anything good. Your majesty, you must be careful."

The queen looked around anxiously, but saw to her relief that no one else seemed to be looking to interrupt their conversation or listening in. She had no idea what to make of what Hud-Bah told her yet, and until she sorted through it, she certainly did not want the rumor mill churning. Lunatac nature was such that many would wind up behaving in a way to fulfill the destiny rather than avoid it, either intentionally or not. "I don't really understand what you're talking about. Who is the Master of Lightning? And what is the natal position of Thundera? Do you mean when it was re-formed, as in born?"

"The Master of Lightning is not a who, but a what. It's a comet, an aggressive little asteroid in our system with a very eccentric cycle, and when its path traverses points sensitive in the chart—the stars' positions when one comes into being, birth for living beings, or the signing of documents or opening ceremonies in the case of unions, treaties, or structures like bases and bridges—something gets the cosmos kicked out of it." He shook his head. "Oh, I think I need another steinful of Eclipse after this," he groaned before continuing. "Basically, your majesty, this comet's trajectory will collide with the position of New Thundera in one of the capitol's charts, and loosely to both the military base and the MoonTower as well. They were established a few months after the formal recognition of the city as the capitol, but will be affected nonetheless. We can't say how, whether it's an invasion, a riot, or just some nutcase assassin on the loose gunning for one of the royal family or court," he shrugged, "but we can say that they will be affected."

Selene closed her eyes. "That's terrible, if it turns out to be true."

"That's why I'm telling you, Queen Selene, so that you can do what you can as the ruler of the Moons to keep measures in place to sidestep it. You can't avoid it—when the Master of Lightning acts up, there's not much anyone can do to stop it—but timely caution could mean the difference between annoying and catastrophic, whatever it is."

"I see." She forced a pleasant look and shook his hand. "Thank you for your warning, Hud-Bah. I'll be sure and discuss it with Psiarik and especially Frostor. We'll see to it that security measures are tightened, and that we go out of our way to make the Battle of the Swords' fifth anniversary most welcoming to our Thunderian and Mutant allies."

The priest nodded back to her. "Wonderful. I knew I could count on your majesty to listen to sensible graviton advice." He grinned. "Give my regards to his majesty and the Governor General, and of course the young prince."

"I will."

"I'll leave you to the more pleasant things again, then. It'd be a shame to not enjoy this fine party you've thrown while it lasts! Good health and vitality to you, Queen Selene!" Hud-Bah said, and bowed to her one final time before running off to the bar. His words continued to weigh on Selene's mind for several moments, but only until another official came over to speak with her. Their conversation was far more light and pleasant, however, and before long she put the warning from Hud-Bah out of her mind for the time being. The notion to discuss it with her husband, general, and those of the court was added to her to-do list, and she went on to enjoy the rest of the festivities celebrating her son.

* * *

Pumari was in WilyKit's room, helping her to pack her things for a trip to Third Earth for guardianship. "I wish I could go along with you sometime," the girl said with a wistful note in her voice. Bengali and Pumyra's daughter was now nearing her eleventh birthday, but still had her childlike enthusiasm for adventure. "I bet it'd be a lot more fun to go with you than it is when I get stuck going with my mom or dad."

"Thanks, but are you sure you're not just saying that because you think I'd let you have more fun than they would?" WilyKit replied with a grin, stuffing a pair of slippers into an already overfull satchel. It was becoming a challenge, but she did not want to hunt down another bag and repack things just to make one lousy pair of slippers fit.

"I know you would," Pumari said confidently. "You never make me go to bed early, or tell me I can't have a second piece of dessert, or worry every time I get on a spaceboard like my mom seems to."

WilyKit shoved down on the stubborn slipper with her heel while pulling at the zipper hard with one hand, holding the other end of it fast with the other. "Aw, well it's not fair if I don't let you do the same things I'd do myself," she admitted, letting out a breath of relief when she proved victorious over her baggage. "But it's Pumyra's job to worry about you. I think all mothers do with their cubs. Cheetara and Lion-O are the same with Chet."

"You think you'd be like that if you had a cub?" Pumari eyed her curiously. "I don't think you would, 'cause you're too much fun."

At that WilyKit laughed. "A cub! By Jaga, Pumari, I don't even have a boyfriend, much less a fiancé I'd marry and have cubs with."

"What about Altran?" Pumari asked, referring to a tiger that WilyKit had been out with a few times in the recent past.

WilyKit shook her head. "Oh, not him, that'd never work out. He's nice and all, but he's too serious. He's so wrapped up in his work that it's all he talks about most of the time. I mean, it's not like the city utility projects he does design on aren't important, but my eyes just glaze over, and he doesn't seem to get how he goes on and on about it." She made a face. "And a girl can only stand playing second fiddle to toilet plumbing for so long."

Pumari giggled at the older cat's expression. "What do you mean?"

"Three times he canceled on meeting me to take voluntary overtime on the sewer project. There's dedication, and then there's a problem with priorities. Especially since it's not like he couldn't have found someone to cover at least two of those times." She shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I like him and we're still friends, but it'd never work." She ran a comb through the styled tip of her mane once, and then stuffed it into a pouch on her bag. "Besides, I think I'd like someone a little more adventurous. Someone who might like things like going along with me to Third Earth on guardian duty for a few weeks, and could take anything from it being a low-key vacation where we sleep in and hang out with the warrior maidens for dinner in a treetop, and the next day trek up Hook Mountain to say hi to the snowman, to being able to handle an unexpected raid from Berzerkers on the Berbils or something like that."

"I'd like to marry someone like that too," the girl agreed. "And he'd have to be really cute. You can find someone cuter than Altran anyway. Like maybe Leopardran?" she hinted, naming a handsome young leopard athlete that sometimes trained in the Cat's Lair arena. In recent years, the Thundercats had opened their facilities to a semi-elite membership that Thunderian citizens could purchase once the individual passed the physical and rudimentary skill requirements for facility use, as well as a background check that cleared them as trustworthy enough to be given limited access to official Thundercat premises. Leopardran was a witty and flirtatious cat who easily caught the attention of the ladies, especially since he was an agile gymnast as well as skilled with hand blades.

Laughing, WilyKit tousled Pumari's mane. "I'm sure Leopardran has his pick of whoever he wants, but I think I'll leave him for the rest of the women of Thundera to fight over. Besides," she said slyly, "I think it's funny when he runs into Leonora and flirts with her. It sends Kat's blood pressure through the roof, even though everyone knows he's only half serious and talks that way to all the girls."

Pumari flopped on the bed. "Do you think he'll wind up marrying her?"

"He might. They've been seeing each other a long time now. I like her. I've wondered if he'd suggest trying to get her a position as a Thundercat, but I don't think she'd go for it. Doesn't seem to be her thing."

"And Lion-O hasn't said for sure if they're going to make more Thundercats yet," Pumari said, her tone suddenly turning wistful. "Sometimes I don't think they'll ever let me be a Thundercat, even though both my parents are."

WilyKit looked down at her with an odd look. "Why do you say that?"

Pumari propped her chin up on her elbows and looked back at the older cat with wide brown eyes. "Because they never said they would yet, and I'm already eleven. You and WilyKat were younger than that when you were trained. Nobody even talks about training me, and when I ask if I could learn to use a weapon, they say ok, but then say just about everything I want to try is too dangerous. I'm ok with the club and staff, but they won't let me try a real one or go in the arena much."

"That's just policy," WilyKit said in an attempt to be reassuring. "I think they don't want you to spar with one of the adults at a higher skill level that might hurt you by accident, and want you to fight someone in your own height and weight class until you're ready."

"All the kid classes are in the city and they're not the same. I've taken those. I could learn better if I could try like a real Thundercat." Her pout deepened. "I don't think they want me to be one. Otherwise why wouldn't they let me like Jaga did you and WilyKat, and Lion-O? Lion-O was even younger than you two before his suspension capsule changed him after the Exodus."

Hoisting a second full bag onto the bed beside Pumari, WilyKit replied, "Well, Lion-O was Lord Claudus' only cub and the heir. He had to be trained, especially since he was the one who'd have to replace Claudus or Jaga if one or both of them fell. The Mutant attacks were really bad back then. They couldn't take chances, not when Jaga also had no heirs that could become a Thundercat Lord. If Lion-O had died like Jaga and his father, the Thundercats would've had no clear Lord to take over the Sword of Omens. Tygra was second-in-command and head of the council, but usually the council head and the Thundercat Lord aren't the same cat so there's a check and balance."

"How come you and WilyKat were trained young then?"

WilyKit paused for a thoughtful moment. "We just… were. The Thundercats took care of us after our parents died, and made us Thundercats too. I guess they thought it was a good idea, or felt it was their duty to. They always called us 'gifted' so that probably had something to do with it." She caught the funny look that formed on Pumari's face and then quickly added, "Not that I'm saying you aren't gifted, Pumari—not at all. But times were different then. There were wars going on and Thundercats were needed to fight a lot more than today. Mostly we're government officials with titles." She sighed. "Kind of boring in comparison, although I don't really miss the fighting. The adventures were cool, though. Paperwork and politics and speeches really aren't."

"Neither is getting to do nothing more important than sometimes getting watch duty in the control room as far as being like a Thundercat goes," Pumari pouted.

"I thought Tygra, Snoelle, and Lynx-O were also teaching you to research in the Book of Omens?"

"Yeah, but that's only a little bit cooler than school lessons." The disappointment in her voice was evident. "I like the stories, but there's so many rules and it gets confusing. And I only got to go in with the key once, with Tygra. That was fun, but they said it's not something we can do a lot."

"Yeah, I know." WilyKit nodded sympathetically. "Hey, it's too late to ask now, but maybe on my next turn of Third Earth duty, I'll ask Pumyra and Bengali if they'd mind letting you tag along with me. And for this time, I'll try and swing you a visit for a week if they can spare the fuel?"

Pumari's eyes brightened. "Oh, that'd be fun! I'd like that!"

WilyKit's eyes sparkled along with her young friend's, mirroring her enthusiasm. "Me too."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hoo, it's incredible!" Cynolus exclaimed, grinning at his uncle Monkian with unabashed glee. "The human's primitive medicine worked. I haven't felt this good since before I was wounded, and look," he peeled back the gauze that still covered the sore, "it's healing. Really healing."

Monkian nodded back to his nephew and smiled. "Glad it worked."

"That human of yours is a keeper. No wonder you brought her with you," the simian went on, still nearly giddy with delight. "I'd pay you a small fortune for her myself if you'd part with her, but I get the feeling you won't."

"Sorry. I told Zalea I'd keep her." Monkian shook his head. After he and Zalea had gotten back to Plundarr, the warrior woman had wisely chosen to heed his warning and act like he had told her to—quiet and submissive, and to do explicitly what he said and stay with him at all times when they were together. As such, aside from some grumbles and glowers, she had survived the trip. Monkian had her administer the treatments to Cynolus' wound, telling his uncle that he had captured Zalea when he learned she had the means to heal him. No further questions were asked after that, other than to inquire if he intended to keep or sell her, in which case Cynolus would rather buy her himself than see her go to the open market. He hinted strongly that her tough female physique was something he found appealing, and would gladly use for pleasure given that he could tell she could withstand the rough sex Mutants liked without whining about pain the way some weak humans did when their Mutant masters had their way with them. Zalea had nearly rebelled upon hearing that, but fortunately a stomp on her bare foot from Monkian's heel silenced her before she could cause a scene that he wanted to avoid. He liked Zalea, but no human was more important than his kin, especially the one who had made his post-circus train life on Plundarr as good as it was, and he would rather she not have to find that out the hard way.

That morning, however, it was only Monkian and Cynolus in the room; Zalea was locked in Monkian's suite with assorted technological trinkets and gadgets that held her curiosity enough to keep her quiet and distracted while he was gone. He had told her that if she behaved, he would later escort her to one of the wilder areas on the planet to look around and find things that interested her. Monkian hoped that in a few more days he could broach the subject of returning her to Third Earth to Cynolus, once he thought of a plausible reason that would not be countered with the question of why not just sell her to him or kill her outright if she had become troublesome, rather than making an otherwise pointless trip to Third Earth.

Thus far Cynolus had not questioned Monkian's desire to keep Zalea, although his one-track mind assumed it was for the same reasons he had asked if he might have her. Cynolus had a wife, but slaves were common and so were pleasure slaves. Mutant society was more sexist and patriarchal than their sister societies on the Moons and New Thundera, and it was typical for prominent Mutant males to have both a mate that they procreated with—and sometimes more than one, if he was wealthy, ambitious, and energetic—as well as concubines and slaves for pleasure. Monkian had never taken a bride of any sort and only "borrowed" from his nephew's estate's harem at times, so Cynolus simply assumed that Zalea was his personal toy. It was not exactly true, for while if Zalea chose to offer herself to Monkian in such a way, he would certainly take the pleasure without a second thought, he did not feel any strong attraction to her otherwise that made him hope that she would. Still, Monkian was perfectly content to let Cynolus think what he would, and in his opinion, the fewer questions asked, the better.

Monkian excused himself from his uncle's company a short while later and returned to his rooms to find Zalea rapt by a picture cube. It was one of the simpler technological baubles from Plundarrian society, a paperweight from one of the estate's offices that showed various landscapes on Plundarr and other nearby worlds. Zalea stared at it in wonder with a look on her face that reminded Monkian of how those who had been caught under Alluro's orb looked. He cleared his throat with a loud "hoo" when he entered, and only then did she look up.

"Are all these places here on Plundarr?"

"Not all of them," Monkian answered without bothering to look.

"What about this one?" She tapped one of the sides in a way that she had discovered changed the images until the one she had been looking for appeared on it. It was a shot of a black waterfall surrounded by dark trees with only the slightest bit of natural light coming through. "I've never seen a black river before. Even the waters of the River of Despair when they're muddy aren't this dark."

Monkian peered at it, and when he did not instantly recognize it, took the crystal from her hands. He cheated and checked the display information. "It's on the Fifth Moon, in one of the forest edge zones. There's more light than usual in it for a dark moon picture, probably because something took out some of the trees by it before this was taken."

Zalea looked at him curiously. "The dark moon… kind of like DarkSide, you mean? Is that a place Lunatacs are from?"

"Yes." His tone held a note of disinterest, and he tossed the cube back on the chair, where she picked it up again. He, meanwhile, sought out items to add to his belt for their upcoming outing—a hand weapon, a tie, and a communicator. "So do you want to go out somewhere or not?"

She ignored his brusque demeanor and rose to her feet. "Yes! This room is so dark and small. I don't like being indoors so much. It reminds me of the times I was sick and confined to one of the huts back home."

"You'd better get used to it, if you want to make it here," he grumbled.

Her lips curled into a frown. "If you took me home, I wouldn't have to." She boldly went over to him and folded her arms, standing in front of him in a demanding manner. "Did you talk to Cynolus about taking me home yet?"

Monkian did not bother to turn around. "No."

"Why not?" Her voice took on a shrill and impatient note, which in turn annoyed him, and he whirled around and grabbed her arm roughly to remind her of her place and who was calling the shots.

"Because I didn't!" he snapped. "You don't understand Mutant society, so stop thinking you do. It wasn't a good time yet." He lowered his voice and released her arm when he saw a start of fear flash through her eyes. "When you came up, it was him asking again if he could buy you."

Zalea scowled. "So he can force me into his bed? I'd sooner die!"

"And you would, if he demanded and you refused," Monkian warned her coldly. "Or at least he'd have me beat you for impudence in front of him. So you'd be smart to keep a low profile and not give him any ideas." The simian's nose wrinkled. "I thought about telling him that you were from an all-female tribe and didn't know how to please a male, hoo, but then he'd wonder why I was keeping you since that's what he thinks you're doing for me."

Her eyes darkened. "And you didn't correct him."

Monkian returned her sour expression. "No, fool, because then he'd question my weakness in keeping you for no good reason when other slaves are doing hard labor or at least domestic work." He sneered. "He has to think I wear you out so that you don't have the energy to leave my bedroom except when I command it."

"You Mutants are disgusting," she spat angrily.

Angry, Monkian grabbed Zalea's wrist again, and that time spun her around and pinned her against her wall. "Don't make me regret showing you mercy, or you'll find out just how disgusting we Mutants can be, especially as your masters." His face was inches from hers, breath heavy on her face, as he spoke.

She wriggled in protest, but the larger and bulkier simian was too strong. "So you do think of me as your slave now," she said in a cold and angry tone. "I wonder if you ever told the truth at all when you said you'd see about finding me a way home."

That was enough to inflame his temper, and he grabbed her roughly around the waist and picked her up, none too gently. Zalea struggled and shrieked, but aside from kicking and punching protests that did little more than annoy Monkian, she was helpless in his grasp as he then threw her onto his bed. Before she could move, he leapt on top of her, straddling her and pinning her down with one hand around her neck in a way that could easily choke the breath out of her if he so chose. He exerted some force, but not enough to do more than make it difficult enough to breathe so that she could not so readily struggle. "You have nerve," he growled in contempt. "You have no idea where you'd be now if it wasn't for me. Do you like this?" He tightened his fingers slightly. "Do you want me to demonstrate what Cynolus would do if you refused him? And I'd be more gentle," he sneered at her. Zalea glared back at him with fiery hatred, but he only stared back harshly, unaffected. "I didn't think so." He pushed down on her throat hard, enough to make her gag and cough, and then got up and left her there, his back to her.

"We're leaving in five minutes," he said coldly, and picked up his hiking belt. "You should tie your hair back and put something stronger on your feet. There are wraps in the closet." He then went into another room in his suite, slamming the door behind him without another word.

* * *

"Luna!" Frostor's harsh voice rasped at her from the doorway. She looked up from where she sat in a small but tall, plush chair in the midst of reading a novel in one of the MoonTower's lounges. The reading glasses she now wore, as Altheus had warned her some time ago that her eyes were degrading as often happened in older age, blurred the sight of the Governor General as she looked up from the pages, and she pushed the spectacles down her face to stare over them at him.

"What do you want?" When she spoke, Amok also glanced up from the large velour cushion on the floor upon which he had been snoozing prior to the Governor General's arrival.

Frostor appeared unaffected by her brusque tone, his expression remaining pleasant as he took a couple of steps toward her. "If you and Amok are up for guests, I'd like to send someone in."

Luna's irritated expression was replaced by one of curiosity. "Oh? Who?"

Frostor took that as confirmation enough and waved out into the hall with a smile on his face. "Come on in, Bruiser!"

"Bruiser?" Luna repeated, but her brute's echo of the same name in astonishment drowned it out. Amok was on his feet and knuckles in a flash, his eyes as bright and alert as if Frostor had come in waving a ten pound sack of sweets. A few moments later, an ivory-colored brute with similar facial and bone structure to Amok, although clearly many years older, came thundering past the icewalker.

"Big brother Amok!" the brute called Bruiser exclaimed as he and Amok met in the center of the room. The two threw their burly arms around each other and both let out grunts of happiness.

Amok thumped Bruiser hard on the back, through the leather garb that he wore to accommodate his lunar master, who was not present. "Little brother Bruiser get old. But Amok glad to see him!"

Luna slipped off of her chair and stood uneasily on her tiny feet with one hand on the chair for support while she watched the reunion in astonishment. "Amok's brother? Where on the Moons did you find him? He hasn't seen any of his kin in years, probably not since the last time that fool Nooman insulted me in the club back in the day." The lunar she referred to was the one Bruiser had been given to guard, a business associate of her long gone father's. As was evident from her words, Luna had not been much of a fan of Nooman's, although she never had any issue with Amok's brother alone.

While the reunited brutes chatted in short grunting sentences with one another, Frostor knelt and offered Luna his arm for support, which she wordlessly accepted. He scooped her up and balanced her in the crook of his arm against his side much like the way a parent would hold a toddler. "Nooman died in the disasters. He's with a lunar named Calius now. He took a liking to him when he pulled him out of a scrape back in the rougher times a year or so afterward. They've been together ever since. I'd heard Bruiser's name before; a lot of the brutes helped us with the construction work on the city buildings, the base, and of course the 'Tower here, but I had no idea he was related to Amok. One of our genealogists found the tie while he was going through the more recent census records and matching them to what we have left from the pre-disaster days." Frostor smiled, and watched the two brutes go back and forth in a conversation that to them seemed to have more depth than the outsiders could really understand. When brutes spoke to one another, they often slipped into a natural tongue of grunts and growls mixed with words that added a layer that only non-brute Lunatacs that knew the brutes very well could translate.

Luna nodded, a smile also on her usually cynical features. "I'd never thought that any of Amok's family might still be around," she said, although the truth was that the notion to ask had never occurred to her. Luna had come across Selene and Silvian by chance, and they had already told her what they knew of what had become of her family. Since Amok never mentioned his relations and Luna was not the type to think beyond herself, it had never come up. "Funny that he used to bully Bruiser around a bit, because he was always bigger than his 'little' brother. Amok was the biggest of his siblings." She smiled with pride. Luna had always taken having the best of anything as a gods-given right.

"You never know, he might still be able to. Poor Bruiser's older than him now, thanks to your run-in with Mumm-Ra."

Luna made a face. "Don't talk about that miserable bag of bones. It's been almost five years since we got rid of him, and I'd be perfectly happy to never hear his name again."

Chortling, Frostor retorted, "I'm sure he'd say the same about you if he was asked."

"Well he wasn't, and neither were you!" Luna replied huffily.

The shrill note in his mistress' voice interrupted Amok's conversation with his brother, and he looked over at Luna and Frostor with a questioning look. Frostor cast a nonchalant nod in his direction. "Don't mind Luna, Amok. She's just being herself."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to." Frostor's gravely voice remained calm, maddeningly so to the lunar woman on his arm, who proceeded to wave a stubby finger in his face.

"I want you to quit insulting me!"

The corners of the ice man's mouth turned downward as his left eyebrow rose. "Insult you, Luna dear? Would I do that?"

"Yes! You just did!" She glared at Frostor with the intensity of someone looking to pick a fight, hardly an uncommon scenario for the two of them. Though Luna and Frostor spent a great deal of time together, it was rare that it occurred without it degenerating into an argument, even if only a brief one. In the time that she had lived in the MoonTower, needling Luna had become an entertaining hobby that Frostor borrowed from Alluro, although since he actually liked Luna—most of the time—he went about it more subtly and with less snide intent.

"What I meant was left to your discretion, Luna," he informed her imperiously. "You're the one who decided to read an insult into it."

"Augh! You're almost as bad as Alluro," she snapped. "Don't take that condescending tone with me! We both know what you meant, and I don't appreciate it. And if you're going to keep being so rude, you can put me back in my chair."

"All right. Since you insist." Frostor strode over to Luna's chair and flopped her in it without regard to comfort or propriety. He then headed toward the door and beckoned to Amok and Bruiser. "It's almost lunchtime, Bruiser, and you're more than welcome to join us. If you want to head on down, you can relax for a few minutes over the candy bowls in the dining hall until it's served."

Immediately both brutes ceased talking, exchanged eager looks, and thundered toward the door along with Frostor, while Luna let out an angry squawk of protest from her chair. "Hey! Amok! Wait! I need you to carry me!"

"Oh that won't be necessary," Frostor cut in before Amok could respond. "One of us can make sure she gets down there at lunchtime. Catch up with your brother." He grinned at the brute and waved them on. Neither Amok nor Bruiser needed further encouragement, especially with the promise of candy waiting for them. The brutes vanished down the hall, leaving the irate Luna in her chair and Frostor at the doorway across the room.

"Very funny!" a furious Luna shrieked. "I don't even want to talk to you, much less go to lunch with you."

Frostor gave her a sharp look. "Oh, did I say _I_ would carry you? I don't believe I did. But if you're asking, I'd appreciate an apology first."

An indignant look akin to one that she might have used on a Mutant demanding that she clean his toilet flashed across her face. "What? How dare you! I'd sooner apologize to Mumm-Ra!"

"And here you told me not to bring him up," the icewalker said, shaking his head in a tsk-tsk motion. "Make up your mind, woman."

"Just shut up and take me downstairs!"

His brow rose again, and he took only a few slow steps toward her. "As far as apologies go, that was pretty poor. I'm sure you can do better."

"I'm sure _you_ know what you can do with your apology, blowhard!" She picked up the riding crop that was on the cushion beside her and waved it after launching the novel she had been reading earlier in his direction.

He barely ducked in time to avoid being beaned by the book, and he felt its edge graze his spiky white hair. "Now your throw on the other hand, that's pretty good." He chortled and went over to the chair, looking down at her, arms folded. "But all right, come on Luna. I won't make you eat your words. You won't have enough room for your lunch." He then bent down and picked her up without waiting for permission or a response, which was to squawk indignantly and call him several less-than-flattering names as they proceeded downstairs.

* * *

"Lion-O, I'd like to talk to you if you have a minute," Tygra said to the Thundercat Lord as he approached him in the Lair's control room where he was on watch duty.

"Sure. Things are quiet." He swiveled around to face the tiger. "What's going on?"

Tygra sat down in one of the empty seats, as they were the only ones present. "Actually it's more of a question to pick your brain than it is a problem or anything going on. I know it's come up in passing at some meetings, and I'm sure you hear the questions when you're out and about as often as I do, about if and when we plan to train or anoint any new Thundercats?"

Lion-O let out a deep breath. "Oh, that. Yes, it's been brought to my attention. Several times. And by several clan leaders." He shook his head. "Especially by ones like Tocell-O and Leprista. It really bothers them that we don't have any ocelots or leopards represented, as if it's a reflection on them." He tapped his fingers against the edge of his chair. "I wish I could explain to them that it's not a reflection on what we think of any particular clan, race, or whatnot. Maybe that's how it was on Old Thundera, but I've never felt that way. The Thundercats are peacekeepers and enforcers of the Code of Thundera, but it's not like we rule to oppress anyone. The clan leaders and magistrates have a lot more power than they think, and we have less than they think we do. For Jaga's sake, they're a part of the council, and it's what makes the laws in the spirit of the Code."

"You and I both know that; heck, all the Thundercats know that, but they can't see past the lordship and the clout the Thundercats had in the past. I know you were too young to remember, but there were much sharper class distinctions then." Tygra smiled wistfully. "It's one of the reasons having the twins made Thundercats was such a wise move. The mixed races hadn't had any representation in the Thundercats for a few generations prior to them, and some of the more prejudiced clan leaders were using it as justification to claim bloodline superiority."

"Ridiculous," Lion-O muttered, wondering how his own people who valued the tenets of the Code of Thundera so highly could be so hypocritical when looking down their noses at fellow Thunderians. He had always believed that one's character was the best barometer to judge one by, and that a cat like their longtime friend Torr, a leopard-tiger mix of humble common birth, had more class in his small toe than supposedly well-bred Thunderians like Baron Tass of the puma clan, whose ambition had once almost seen Lion-O usurped in his greedy lust for power. Cosmic justice had seen Tass put in his place in the end, as his Thunderian peers found him guilty of treason and recommended he be either imprisoned or banished. Lion-O accepted the baron's public apology and his word to never cross him again, and gave him a lighter sentence of community service for ten years, and to use his clout and funds to further projects that would help all Thunderians such as hospitals, spaceports, and public works. The baron himself was also forced to work alongside the common folk on these projects as their peer, a humbling experience that Lion-O thought he could rightly use, along with the exercise. Tass had kept true to his word and had not challenged him publicly since, but it was no secret that he was hardly Lord Lion-O's biggest fan or best friend.

Conversely, their friend Torr now manned the beacon tower as its chief guardian and supervisor. He and his family lived in the nice living quarters at the top and many Thunderians trusted, liked, and worked for Torr. More than one individual had suggested that Torr be made a Thundercat, but before Lion-O could even offer, Torr had stated a gracious no to the suggestion, saying that while he valued the Thundercats' friendship, his responsibilities fell first and foremost as a husband and father. Lion-O could understand and respect that, even more so after marrying and having a cub himself.

Tygra nodded along with Lion-O's spoken sentiment about the clan and race issues among the Thunderians. "I agree. But we ought to give some kind of official answer soon, so I wanted to get your thoughts on it. Do you want to officially open up any more Thundercat positions and take on trainees?" He glanced at the door, and then added quietly, "And if so, you know that Pumari hopes to be made a Thundercat. She's said as much to me in some of our lessons. I don't know exactly what Bengali or Pumyra think about that, but I don't want to say anything to them until I've at least discussed the whole Thundercat position issue with you."

"I know." Lion-O followed the tiger's gaze to the door and stared a moment before answering. "The truth is that I don't see a need for more Thundercats right now. We're not at war, and it doesn't use up even half our time and manpower just keeping our bases manned and maintained both here and on Third Earth. We've taken on a lot of roles that in the past were handled by ancillary support staff like diplomats and courtiers. We didn't need those roles on Third Earth as much, and with so many Thundercats here it was only natural that we took it over on New Thundera. If some unexpected war broke out, it might be a good idea, but beyond replacing someone if, Jaga forbid, something terrible were to happen to one of us, I don't want to open that can of worms."

Lion-O leaned back in his chair as he continued. "If we open just one or two Thundercat positions, we're going to be flooded with applications. That's not a bad thing, and the competition in the trials would without a doubt give us individuals who'd rightfully deserve the title, but you know that no matter how we chose them, even making the process as fair and open and objective as possible, we'd still get accused of favoritism if certain clan leaders didn't get their favorites in." He frowned. "And that's not accounting for what would happen if another lion, a tiger, cheetah, panther, or other cat of a race already represented among the Thundercats won. You know that they'd be saying that we're biased in favor of our own clans even though it wouldn't be true… and while I don't really care what they think in that I know what we're doing is right, it'll still make some resentments against me even deeper."

"Yes." Tygra sighed. "And choosing an ocelot, leopard, or another clan that has no member as a Thundercat would only be reverse discrimination. I'd hate to wonder if I was picked only because I was from a certain clan rather than because I earned it."

"Exactly." Lion-O leaned on his elbow. "So until we actually _need_ the positions, I don't want to dredge all this up."

"What about Pumari?" Tygra pressed. "You know sooner or later it'll come up, either from her directly or Bengali or Pumyra. She's never been shy about speaking her mind. And then with her that brings up the issue of Chet…"

That time it was Lion-O's turn to sigh. "I know. Of course Chet will have to go through Thundercat training, because he's my only son." He frowned. "Much to Azandi's disappointment."

Tygra's brow rose. "Has he said anything lately?"

"Nothing you haven't heard. But you know how he is. Even when he doesn't say anything, he still always brings these pretty lionesses with him to see me whenever he has the opportunity, and they're always so _friendly_, more than they should be to a married man, whether he's their Lord or not."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they're that 'friendly' to him either. He doesn't make any secret of the fact that he keeps at least two mistresses along with his wife. I don't know why Neolia puts up with it, to be honest," he said, naming the lion councilman's wife.

"Me neither, though I guess she has her reasons. I think she's good friends with at least one of them. Maybe they look at splitting their time with him as a welcome break."

That remark led Tygra to chuckle. "Perhaps so. Relationships are odd beasts, that's for sure," he said before returning to their previous subject. "As for Chet, nobody on Thundera would expect you to not train your son as a Thundercat. Pumari on the other hand…"

Lion-O gave a light nod. "I know. Historically, the only children of Thundercats all but guaranteed the position were those designated the Lords' heirs. Children of Thundercats otherwise aren't given any preferential treatment, even though more often than not they qualify because they were raised with it in mind and trained for it."

"And therefore had an edge in the trials," Tygra finished. "Pumari will have a difficult time understanding that. The universe is very black and white when you're her age, and it'll be hard for her to see why it's fair that Chet can and she can't."

"Plus, if I open up a position for her and not at least one public one, you know there'll be an uproar," Lion-O pointed out. "Accusations of favoritism will be all but a guarantee, even if we make her trials as public as possible."

"I agree," said Tygra. "And while I think she'd make a fine Thundercat someday if that's what she wants, in this day and age I don't think we need to rush to get her training beyond the weapons skills and educational background she's already getting. Her familiarity with the Lair and rapport with us will already be an edge if that's the path she chooses. If it was up to me, I'd recommend that she not be allowed to even try until she's an adult or close to it. Who knows what the situation will be like a few years into the future compared to now, anyway?"

Lion-O was suddenly reminded of the eccentric old white tigress that had approached him in the marketplace a while back, and her dire warnings of a time of evil coming to pass. Fortunately there was still no sign that her predictions were coming true, but the time frame that she mentioned was only just approaching. Still, he chose not to bring it up, and just murmured assent to Tygra's statement and said, "It would be nice for a Thundercat cub to actually have a kittenhood rather than being forced to grow up too fast. I have a few fond memories of my days before the suspension aging, but I can't help but think that I missed out on a lot. The twins might not have aged like me, but they were forced to grow up beyond their years too with everything we went through on Third Earth and our first years back here."

"Absolutely." Tygra smiled. "I'm glad we're thinking along the same lines on this issue, Lion-O. Now I know what to say if someone catches me off guard and brings it up."

"Me too," Lion-O said with a measure of relief, even as the desperate look on the old tigress' face flashed through his mind once again. "And think of it this way—if this is one of our biggest problems, compared to how things've been before, we've got it pretty good right now, huh?"

Tygra rose to his feet. "Can't argue with that. See you later, Lion-O. I've got a few things I have to take care of."

"See you later," Lion-O replied, and returned his attention to the monitors as Tygra left. For some reason, however, he could not get that odd encounter with the doom-predicting tigress out of his mind.

* * *

Two Mutant guardsmen, one dark-furred rat and one scaly yellow-green reptilian, held their weapons firmly at their side and bowed on either side of the door leading into Ratar-O's throne room. Jackalman stepped past them confidently, dressed in a fine tunic of wine-colored silk and expensive gold-embroidered black pants. His caramel-colored fur was recently shampooed and nicely brushed, and he looked every bit the fine figure of a Mutant statesman as he believed himself to be. He could not take full credit for that, however; his wife was the one with the eye for color and had spent the hour prior to his leaving to meet with Ratar-O as summoned nit-picking his appearance and fussing over him like she did their pups. If the truth was to be told he had not really minded, though his pride would not let him admit it since he was the male Mutant of the house and he fancied himself lord and ruler of that even though they both knew better. In general Melasia tolerated his posturing and often condescending attitude toward her "female" advice, but she had her ways of making her displeasure clear if he went too far with it. She was meek, but she could nag like a fierce beast and freeze him out of their bedroom like a Second Moon polar bear, so he was rarely inclined to make her too angry. When she was in a good mood, he got laid regularly, which in turn put him in a good mood… much like the summons from the Mutant Warrior King that was delivered by priority media rather than armed guardsmen preventing evasion did.

"Mighty Ratar-O," Jackalman greeted Plundarr's ruler, bowing with a flourish. "I had a summons from you?"

"Yes." Ratar-O grinned at the jackal. "How're things going, Jackalman? Court business keeping you busy?"

"Enough to keep me on my toes," he answered, figuring that was a safe response. Indicating too little would imply that he was overpaid or did not actually do anything, but indicating too much would give the impression of incompetence, and he certainly did not want that.

"Good. Then it sounds like you're up to what I have planned for you."

"What's that?"

Ratar-O rose to his feet and twirled one of his Rat's Eyes idly. "My sources tell me that you've carved quite a niche and reputation for yourself around here." He fixed his eyes on him in a way that made Jackalman shift slightly, a signal of anxiousness that pleased the rat as he liked his subjects to be rightfully aware of their inferior status to him. Even when he was not delivering bad news, he liked to see firsthand that he was still the feared and respected Mutant Warrior King in the eyes of all Mutants.

Jackalman looked back, trying to gauge his intentions. "A good reputation I hope?"

"Good as I could expect from a prominent jackal like yourself," he said with a grin that only accented the hint of sarcasm in his tone. "But don't worry, even though he's one of my High Captains, I still take everything Slythe says with a salt-shaker." The beginnings of a nervous smile formed at the corners of Jackalman's mouth, but he did not say anything in case he had misread Ratar-O's intent. Ratar-O, meanwhile, continued to speak. "As it turns out, something's come up that you would be perfect for, a short off-world job in the near future. You've been the canine clans' liaison for some time. Do you have any others that work with you?"

The question stumped him for a moment, not because he could not answer, but because he was not sure what Ratar-O's motivation was for asking it. "Nyah, my two assistants do a lot of my leg work, and things I delegate to them," he admitted after a moment to consider the best way to answer.

Ratar-O took a few steps closer until he was eye to eye with him. "Do you trust them? Could they cover your affairs if I sent you off world?"

"I—I think so," Jackalman replied. He wondered what it was that Ratar-O was considering sending him off-world for and how long the "short" job would be, and of course, how much it would pay. He knew better than to ask, though, at least right away.

Ratar-O re-sheathed the Rat's Eyes in his belt. "Good. I wouldn't want to hear all the barking and whining if canine affairs were handled incompetently while you're away."

The jackal could contain his curiosity no longer. "Away where?"

"To your first assignment in your new position, Ambassador Jackalman." Ratar-O grinned, while Jackalman let out an audible gasp of surprise. Whatever he had expected, it had not been a promotion, at least not a promotion to court Ambassador, which was far more prominent than his current position. Immediately he bowed to king of the Mutants in gratitude.

"Thank you, mighty Ratar-O," he said sincerely. "Ambassador! I'm honored."

Ratar-O nodded and indicated with a hand gesture for him to rise. "As you should be! It's not a position for fools and incompetents. Though some would say you don't fit that bill, I know enough about you to know that all rumor can't be believed, especially when it comes to Third Earth or the unfortunate incidences afterward." He fingered the handle of one of his Rat's Eyes, but did not draw it. "I chose you for this position because I want to send in someone on this particular mission who'll understand what's at stake, and who we're dealing with. Neither of our two current ambassadors fit the bill."

Jackalman stood straight, but his mind still whirled considering the possibilities of what he was being appointed to. Much of interplanetary relation work was classified to non-military personnel, so he knew only what he had heard through the grapevine off the record, or what little was released to the public. "Thanks for your confidence. I won't let you down."

"Of course you won't." Ratar-O returned to his throne while Jackalman followed him to the foot of it.

"Where are you sending me, Sire?"

"How much do you know about the 'mopers'?" Ratar-O asked offhandedly, as if ignoring his question altogether.

"The 'mopers'," he repeated blankly, until it dawned on him what Ratar-O was talking about. "Oh! You mean the group 'Mutants of Plundarr Rule Supreme'? The ones who protest our alliance with the Lunatacs and Thunderians?"

Ratar-O nodded. "Yes. Or as I like to call them, the whiners, since 'mopers' is a little too much credit for that group of short-sighted fools. As I'm sure you know, they usually pull some stunt almost every time we come up on the anniversary of the Battle of the Swords." Jackalman gave a nod indicative that he knew, and Ratar-O continued. "Well, I expect on the fifth anniversary, which isn't far off, they'll probably act up again, and this time they'll have targets. You see, Queen Selene and Lord Lion-O have both been in contact with me, and the Lunatac queen made a suggestion about quieting some of our rowdier protesting contingents by swapping ambassadors around the time of the anniversary celebration, to help foster a sense of familiarity with our former enemies and establish more common ground. Lord Lion-O jumped all over the suggestion, and for something a woman came up with, I don't think it's all that bad." He wrinkled his nose. He had a grudging respect for the Lunatac queen, but only because he considered her to be an exception as a female that could hold her own as a ruler, rather than typical. "So we all agreed that we'd send a representative to each world to stay with the rulers during the time of the anniversary. Congratulations, Jackalman, you're one of them." He grinned. "And while you're there, give my regards to that crazy buzzard Vultureman."

The mention of Vultureman made it clear that it was the Third Moon that he was to be sent to. Jackalman supposed that was preferable to New Thundera, but only marginally. Queen Selene he only knew very superficially, but her "Aunt" Luna and the rest of the Skytomb crew that remained there he knew all too well, and he did not anticipate having a warm and fuzzy reunion with them, even if it was not an antagonistic one. Vultureman might be interesting to see, however, and he was curious as to how many of the Lunatacs' eccentric ways he had adopted in his time on the Moons with them. "Vultureman," he repeated, "so I'm going to the Third Moon of Plundarr for this exchange? Alone?"

Chortling at the mildly alarmed note in the jackal's response, Ratar-O said, "Does that _scare_ you?"

"Of course not!" Jackalman protested. "I was just wondering about the specifics."

"Ah yes. I forgot about your pretty bitch and pups. I bet you were wondering if they could go along," he said, acting as though he was giving the jackal a gracious out although it was clear from his sarcastic tone that he was simply messing with him. Ratar-O paused a moment and then said, "Afraid not. It'd be more of a distraction, and I'd rather no one without court experience be sent to represent the Mutants to the Lunatacs for something like this."

Jackalman chose not to say anything to that, although he did not appreciate Ratar-O's use of a mild pejorative to refer to his wife. While the term was not exactly an insult when used in reference to a female canine, it was still sexist and carried a connotation of whorishness and a lack of intelligence or importance. Jackalman may have called Melasia his bitch, but it was with affection, and he did not like others speaking ill of her even if he liked to assert his authority over her himself. However, he kept that to himself as he asked his next question. "So if I'm going to the Third Moon, who are you sending to New Thundera?"

"My other new Ambassador. Chamela of the reptilians."

"Iguano's sister," Jackalman noted, his ears twitching with interest at that bit of information. "You appointed a female?"

A sly grin spread across Ratar-O's face. "Yes. Brilliant, eh? What better way to prove to our Thunderian and Lunatac friends that we Mutants are willing to progress past old prejudices than to show that we do indeed value our women? And for a female, Iguano's sister is bright and personable. She can hold intelligent conversation and has a knack for spotting bullshitters from a mile away. Comes with all those years of clan politics at her brother's side, I suppose." He flexed his fingers against each other. "The Thundercats will see a woman as sympathetic, too, since they've encountered few Mutant females in their time. I'm sure it'll surprise Queen Selene when she hears we sent a female to the Thunderians as well, but she won't have the ground to say that we sent her to her as some kind of veiled insult or poorly masked attempt to kiss up."

Jackalman nodded. "A good idea, King Ratar-O."

"Of course it is. I thought of it!" the rat bragged, amused by the jackal puckering up just after he had made a derisive remark about the practice. "And that leaves my two seasoned Ambassadors here to interact with their representatives. But that's still weeks away yet, so they'll have time to train you and Chamela. I expect you to meet with them in the hall for dinner tonight. I assume that won't be a problem?"

"Oh no! Not at all!"

"Good," Ratar-O said, and clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. "If nothing else, this exchange will certainly be memorable for all of us, don't you think?"

Jackalman smiled, both pleased at the new prestige and responsibility he had been given, and anxious at what awaited him on his eventual trip to the Third Moon. "That's one word for it," he said, and then added, "But knowing Luna and Vultureman, I'll have several more to pass along to you by the time it's all over."

* * *

"They took that rather well," Lion-O remarked to Panthro as the members of the now ended council meeting filed out of the room. The Thundercat Lord had just made two official announcements in an effort to squelch the rumor mill. The first was along the lines of what he had discussed with Tygra recently, a statement on the record that the Thundercats had no plans to train or anoint additional Thundercats for at least the next three years, barring an unforeseen circumstance that would require additional manpower on the team. A flurry of murmurs had erupted over the council members at that, largely ones of displeasure, but no one had come out and directly argued with Lion-O on the matter. His assurance that the situation would be reviewed and reconsidered every three years was enough to mollify them for the time being. Lynx-O had overheard Leprista mutter snidely under her breath that his timing was convenient for "some in the Lair", no doubt a barb at the fact that Pumari would be in her mid-teens by then and at a ripe age to begin training, but since she said nothing beyond that he chose not to bring it to Lion-O's attention… especially since his second announcement was the more controversial of the two.

That had been an on-the-record statement that he had heard "disturbing rumors" that remarks had been made about Chet's eventual ability to control the Sword of Omens that were "prejudiced, unfounded, and unbecoming of Thunderians wise and esteemed enough to hold a council seat." He had not named names, but everyone in the chamber knew exactly which individuals it had been targeted at. Lion-O had grown into a patient and tolerant ruler, but that patience only extended so far. He had no doubt that Chet would be able to use the Sword of Omens when the time came, even if he handled it with a different skill set than a full-blooded lion would. Lion-O did not have the prejudice to believe that half-cheetah blood would make his son any less of a warrior, a sentiment echoed wholeheartedly by the remaining Thundercats, even Snoelle who was from an older time in society than any of them, even Lynx-O.

Lion-O went on to say that as far as he was concerned, he was naming Chet his heir and successor on the record, and that if something unfortunate happened to him before Chet was grown and able to take on the responsibilities of the Lord of the Thundercats, Tygra and Cheetara were appointed to act in his stead until he came of age. The Sword of Omens, Lion-O went on to say, would choose which of his guardians was best suited to control its power, and if it found Chet unfit for some reason that he could not imagine, it would seek its own holder from what it knew of the hearts of all Thundercats and Thunderians. Lion-O then declared the matter closed, and asked all the Thundercats, councilmen, and clan leaders as his respected friends to please accept his decision and refrain from allowing old fears and prejudices to taint what he knew were intelligent and open minds. Tygra had watched Lion-O during the meeting proudly. The cub he remembered from years ago had come a long way. _Jaga and Claudus must be so proud of him_, the tiger had thought as Lion-O addressed the council, while individuals such as Azandi, Natorven, Leprista, Tocell-O, and Tass listened in clearly displeased silence.

When the meeting ended, most of the participants departed quickly, giving only hasty goodbyes out of politeness' sake. Since the meeting was held in the Cat's Lair, the Thundercats lingered more leisurely given that they did not have to go far to their homes. While Lion-O was talking to Panthro afterward, Bengali approached Tygra. "I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

"I wanted to thank you for encouraging Lion-O to say something on the record about new Thundercats." After Tygra had spoken to Lion-O about the matter, he had gone to Bengali and Pumyra with what Lion-O had said about the situation given that their daughter had hopes of joining the team someday. They were both relieved by the decision, as they felt similarly that their daughter should be allowed to be a cub and not have to worry about the adult matters Thundercats did until she was old enough to understand what she was getting herself into. Having lived their cub and adolescent years as commoners before Thundera had been lost the first time, they more so than the other Thundercats understood what life was like on both sides of the Lair walls. "Pumari's been very insistent lately, and this will give us something to tell her that won't hurt her or make her feel like it's her and not the situation."

Tygra smiled. "Which is what we all want. For what it's worth, I do think she has the makings of a fine Thundercat… but I agree that there's so much else out there that she should have the time to make sure it's what she really wants before committing to it. She's bright and could excel at many things." He chuckled. "Though perhaps not a scholar. She's not much of a bookworm."

"No," Bengali laughed along with him. "I can't blame her for that. I was never much for books either at her age. I liked getting into everything and trying it myself. My father channeled that energy by putting me at his side at the forge."

"And we're glad he did, considering the times we've needed your hammer to fix the Sword of Omens."

Their conversation was interrupted when they heard a distinctly aggravated female shout from down the hall, and the two tigers looked ahead curiously. "Cheetara?" Tygra wondered aloud.

Before he could say anything else, the cheetah came around the corner with a disgusted look on her face. "Oh, I've _had_ it!"

"I don't think that he knows what Lion-O said in the meeting, snarfer snarfer," Snarfer said at her heels in attempt to calm her down. "Nope, he wasn't in there and Natorven couldn't have told him yet."

"Still, the nerve. I don't care how 'subtle' they think they are, I'm not interested in taking up with a cheetah 'on the side' no matter how nobly they try to present it!" She fumed as Lion-O approached, shaking his head at the situation.

"This is why I said something. I'm so tired of the disrespect—not only to our union, but to Chet! Why do they think we'd betray each other? It just doesn't make sense!"

Snoelle sighed and put her hand on Cheetara's shoulder. "Their idea is that it's not betrayal if it's in the open, agreed upon by all parties, and done for an important purpose such as to create a strong lion or cheetah to carry on their family line." She shrugged. "I never bought into that line of thinking myself, but it was rather common back in my time under Katan."

Lynx-O nodded with her. "Many Thunderians still mate for offspring and keep them and lovers separate, even among the common people."

"I know that, and I respect everyone's right to live as they choose," Lion-O frowned, "but on the same token, some respect for me and Cheetara to live as we choose would also be nice."

Panthro chortled. "Such is the price of fame, I guess. Shows you why I only talk to the clan leaders when I absolutely have to."

At that WilyKat laughed. "Yeah, but even the panthers know better than to get you mad, and we all know what'd happen if they said anything about Snoelle."

"The only reason they haven't is that I'm the only snow leopard left," Snoelle cut in. "The panthers have it in their minds that if the snow leopard line is to continue at all, panther blood would only strengthen it."

"And Panthro's nunchuks wouldn't have anything to do with their willingness to agree, right?" Snarfer twittered with a grin.

Panthro could not help but laugh. "Nothing at all."

* * *

Alluro stood by one of the tall domed windows in the uppermost floor of the MoonTower watching the night sky. Plundarr, New Thundera, and the other Moons were all visible amongst the stars aside from the gravitons' moon Tukabir, which was in its new phase that evening. He had only minor matters on his mind, so it was not all that much of a distraction when he heard someone approach from behind and call his name. He turned around and smiled pleasantly. "Darkail! I didn't know you were back."

The hunter was now the MoonTower's Chief Ambassador, and had been for the past year and a half. He had been granted the position after several months of closely working on the city council with the royal family and Frostor to coordinate with the governors of the other Moons on state affairs. During that time he and Alluro had become fast friends, as they had a fair bit in common despite their dissimilar backgrounds, at least insofar as Alluro was a Fourth Moon psi and Darkail was a Third Moon hunter. In actuality, Alluro's seedy past experiences gave him plenty of common ground with a man who enjoyed the pleasantries high society had to offer on the surface, but reveled in the chaotic thrill of wild survival in his private moments. Alluro was not particularly violent or drawn to the hunters' bloodthirsty hobbies, but his beneath his well-mannered façade the ambitious hypnotist that had spent much of his life raiding and on the run from the law without apology could hardly claim that he did not get a certain thrill out of the darker side of life. Over time he had come to think of Darkail as rather like a younger brother that he had never had. That was in part because of their age difference—Darkail was even younger than his son by a couple of years—and partly because a part of him subconsciously sought to fill the void that Torlei's twisted end had left in his heart.

Darkail smiled back at him, although his expression was otherwise a weary one, as though something distressing weighed on his mind, which Alluro picked up on immediately. "You look tired," the psi remarked as he looked his friend over.

"I am," he admitted, joining Alluro at the window. He stared out into the night sky himself for a moment.

"It doesn't seem like you enjoyed your little vacation." Alluro followed Darkail's gaze and his words hung in the air, the ones unspoken louder than the ones that had been voiced. The "vacation" Alluro referred to was the hunter's recent break to return to Serilune, the hunters' home in the Third Moon jungles, for one of their annual ceremonies, a particularly bloody one that celebrated their heritage. The trip had been a minor bone of contention between the two, not because Alluro had any issue with the reason for it, but because of the company he had brought along on it. Their friendship had left Alluro privy to many things that others in the MoonTower were not regarding the hunter's personal life. Darkail was personable to all of his acquaintances, at least the ones that he was not inclined to draw his claws on, but it was only a select few that he truly opened up to, and as a result Alluro was the only one on the royal court who knew the identity of his most recent lover. And a juicy secret it was indeed. It had taken considerable willpower to refrain from whispering it at the very least to Chilla, but he had promised Darkail that he would keep quiet on it until he chose to bring the eyebrow-raising relationship out into the open. The threat of the hunter's claws if he spilled the beans without permission was enough to keep him in line if the notion of honoring his word to a friend was not.

Darkail's gaze snapped from the window to face the psi with a frustrated expression, his lips curled into a frown. "Actually I did, but that's not what I'm here to talk to you about. I need a favor from you."

One of Alluro's large purple ears pricked forward. "Oh?"

"And the gods help me, if you say 'I told you so'…"

The hunter's terse tone coupled with what he said inspired a laugh from the hypnotist. "Oh my. This _must_ be good."

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't flat out laugh at me, either," Darkail groused.

Alluro resumed a more serious tone and leaned closer, his yellow eyes alit with curiosity. "All right, Dark. What's going on? What happened?" He lowered his voice to a conspiratory whisper so that they would not be overheard by any random passers-by. "Did she not have the time you expected she would in your little jaunt to Serilune?"

The miserable expression on Darkail's face was telling enough, although he answered anyway. "It was wonderful… and then it wasn't. She was incredible, Alluro. You should've seen her in action. She was as good as any of us, and I don't say that lightly about any non-hunters that participate. If I had to compare, I'd say she probably even did better than… well it doesn't matter," he finished, his enthusiasm fizzling abruptly. "Even though it was all so right at the time, she couldn't handle it afterward."

"The morning after, ah regrets," Alluro mused, a mildly sympathetic look in his eyes. He did indeed feel the urge to tell his younger friend that he had suspected his flame was not as like-minded as Darkail believed her to be and had warned him of such more than once, but he refrained, and not only because of his hunter claws. "Did she break your heart?"

A wistful smile crept across Darkail's face despite his mood. "No, but in a way that almost makes it worse." He let out a heavy sigh. "She tells me she loves me, that she can't stand to be away from me, but she can't live with me, or herself, knowing what she's done." He looked hard into Alluro's eyes. "She wants to forget it all. Everything. And go back like nothing happened."

Alluro sat up straight as he realized what favor Darkail needed. "Don't ask me to do that, Dark. You don't know what you're asking."

"You're the only one I trust to help me." He put both hands on Alluro's wrists and looked to him imploringly. "Please, Alluro. I need you."

"It's not as simple as you think."

"Don't tell me you can't do it. You're one of the best, if not the best, damn hypnotist on the Moons!"

Ordinarily the ego stroke would have been enough to sway Alluro, but his fondness for the hunter overrode it, a fact oddly telling of how highly he did indeed think of his young friend. "There are consequences to it that you don't understand. You'll end up regretting it."

Darkail let out an impatient sigh. "Do you think I haven't thought about that? That I want her to forget what we have, for her to not even know me?" His voice choked in its emotion. "Do you think I'm asking because I want it? I love her!"

"If love is your motivation, then I suggest even more strongly that you not go that route." Alluro frowned. "One can't run from the past forever. It always catches up, one way or another."

"It didn't hit you so badly when it caught up to you," Darkail remarked with a pointed look. "You got absolution in the end."

The psi let out an incredulous grunt. "For some of it," he conceded. "But I never sought to forget it all, either. Much as my sister's memory haunts me, I'd never seek to erase it."

"Because you cherish your time with her before she died. Of course you wouldn't want to forget that. She's a part of who you are. Forgetting her means forgetting most of your life."

"And you think that if you erase her memories of you it'll only affect the short time you've known one another relative to the rest of your lives," Alluro hypothesized. The knowing look in the hunter's eyes told him that he guessed correctly. "It's not that easy. There are always strings, glimmers of memory, things you don't think of that'll lead her back to you. The subconscious is a powerful thing, and her will is strong. Even if she forgets you and what you two did together, the drive to remember could well drive her into madness."

Darkail listened, but shook his head of dark green hair resolutely. "It's a risk she'll take."

"And you?" Alluro pressed, commanding the hunter's full attention with his gaze. "You realize you can never see her again. Never. Can you let her go so easily, when you say you love her so dearly?"

Darkail's eyes closed and he lowered his head in misery. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Alluro tipped Darkail's head back up to meet his eyes with one long pointed finger. "That's hardly a firm 'yes'."

"All right!" he snapped. "Yes. I'll do whatever I have to. So will you do it?"

He fell silent for a moment, and then frowned. "I don't think it's a good idea. There must be another answer."

That was not what Darkail wanted to hear, and it showed in the angry snarl that he let out as thrust his hands away violently and glowered at Alluro. "Why?"

Casting him an unimpressed look, Alluro straightened and leaned back against the window. "If your mind's made up, you can find someone else to do it. I'm not the only hypnotist on the Moons even if I am the best."

"I want you!" he retorted angrily. "You're the only psi I know and trust that can do it. I'm not going to hire some chump I don't even know who might screw it up, and risk hurting her."

Alluro chortled. "I suppose I ought to be flattered."

"Please, Alluro." Darkail's voice lost some of its anger and resumed its imploring tone. "I don't ask for favors often. You're one of my closest friends." He lowered his voice. "I'll pay you, if you want, although being King Psiarik's father I doubt I could impress you with an amount."

Something about the desperate look on Darkail's face and the sheer determination behind it, as well as the repeated ego fluffs of implying that no one else could do as good a job as he could led Alluro's resolve to start crumbling. "You could pay me better in owing me a favor, which trust me, I will call in someday."

"Undoubtedly." The hunter smiled as he realized that he had won the psi over. "So you'll do it then?"

"Yes. But I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' if this blows up in your face," Alluro agreed, wondering if he should already be regretting doing so while Darkail's smile broadened into a bona fide victorious grin.

"As long as you remember to keep quiet about it and not say anything to anyone… ever."

Alluro made a mocking solemn face at Darkail. "I'll carry it to the grave, or until you spill the beans. You've my firm oath on it."

"Thank you," replied Darkail, ignoring Alluro's sarcasm. "I knew I could count on you."

"Certainly. Just as I know I can count on you to spend time with Luna in my place in a time of most dire need."

Darkail winced. "When I agreed I'd owe you a favor, that wasn't what I had in mind."

Alluro laughed. "No, but neither was this when you came to me."

"For someone who doesn't revel in bloodshed, you've got quite a sadistic streak."

"You forget, dear Darkail, despite all that's happened after all this time," he grinned mischievously, "I am still Alluro of the Lunatacs of Plundarr."

**The End**


End file.
